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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313546">one of us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Downton Abbey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Canon Era, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Polyamory, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:42:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,894</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Branson has a problem. After losing his beloved wife, he finds himself falling in love with his two best friends. </p><p>And they find themselves falling in love with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Branson/Mary Crawley/Matthew Crawley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It first occurred to Matthew one evening when he happened upon them together in the nursery. She had told him where to find her, eager to see the baby before they went down for dinner. Matthew didn’t blame her; Sybbie was a sweet little thing. It made Matthew all the more eager to have one of his own.</p><p> </p><p>Mary was standing next to Tom, little Sybbie in her arms. Matthew stepped into the room but neither of them seemed to notice him. They were both focused on the baby, speaking lowly to one another.</p><p> </p><p>Matthew felt as if a lightening bolt had struck him when he saw how natural they looked together. Though Mary had enlightened him on how acrimonious their relationship had been at the start, Matthew wouldn't have believed it if he didn't trust her. With the wedding bands on their fingers and the ease in which they spoke to one another, they looked like a married couple doting over their beloved baby.</p><p> </p><p>The most perplexing part about this was how he didn't feel a single ounce of jealousy. It wasn't just a certainty that Mary would never be unfaithful nor a confidence in his and Tom’s friendship, but he was truly unbothered. In fact, seeing them together, so intimately, filled him with a strange sort of warmth.</p><p> </p><p>Tom was the first to spot him. “Is it time to go dinner already?” He asked as Mary lifted her head.</p><p> </p><p>It was that strange warmth that caused Matthew to say, “I think we've enough time to spare to be with this one a little while longer.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In an effort to better understand the running of the estate, Mary had done what she could to educate herself. If she was to be Countess one day, it would be best to be in possession of all the facts of the place she was in charge of.</p><p> </p><p>It was why she had accepted Tom’s invitation to come along with him for the day. Matthew was meant to come along but was held up with some matter of Papa's. “Go along without me,” he'd said, kissing her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Tom drove her hither and thither, showing her the farms and explaining things carefully. Mary’s favorite part of the whole tour of the estate she loved so dearly was when he took her to the top of the hill, overlooking the grounds and the house. It sat imposing in the distance.</p><p> </p><p>“I love the view,” murmured Mary, admiring it.</p><p> </p><p>“If you know the view, all the better,” said Tom, before launching off into an explanation of the land and the farm and all the knowledge he had on the running of Downton.</p><p> </p><p>Mary listened to him but found it hard to concentrate. She was no longer looking at the house, just at him. He was animated, clearly dedicated. It surprised her, how in just a short time as agent, he had acquainted himself with the land. She admired his passion and she wondered if Sybil had, too. That must have been part of the attraction, especially since Sybil had been so passionate in her own right. They had been well matched; she saw that now.</p><p> </p><p>It occurred to her that he had stopped talking. “Have I lost you?” Tom asked.</p><p> </p><p>Mary shook her head. “I’m only impressed you know so much so soon,” she told him, looking out at the view, thinking it might be best to focus her attentions on something besides him. “I’m wondering if we've made you a lover of Downton.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom chuckled. “It’s a beautiful estate. I’ll admit that. And I get on quite well with tenants... but at the end of the day, I’m still the same chauffeur. You haven’t managed to change me quite yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary turned back to him, surprised by what she said next: “Good. I wouldn't want us to.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom thought it was something he had outgrown. It was a folly of his youth, something he had never acted on but been aware of in the company of other young men, especially when his eyes lingered a touch too long. He had sat through enough sermons to frighten him about the fate of his soul to stamp it out.</p><p> </p><p>Or so he had thought.</p><p> </p><p>Not that Tom thought it meant going to Hell, not now, anyways. There were worse things in the world than admiring a man in that way. Tom wasn't certain God would have allowed men to love each other if he was only going to damn them for it in the end.</p><p> </p><p>There wasn't anything wrong with it. But Tom wasn't like that.  </p><p> </p><p>He wasn't.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what he kept reminding himself as Matthew tossed the ball his way. He had loved Sybil and he always would love Sybil. He hadn't just loved her, either; he had desired her. He remembered just how anxious he had been to get home from work in those early days, driven slowly mad at his desk as he concocted fantasies that would make her blush when he whispered them in her ear whilst he whisked her away to their bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>So he didn't understand now why he was so affected by Matthew Crawley. Matthew was one of the first members of the Crawley family to welcome him in, the first to truly befriend him. It only made sense he would harbor warm feelings for the man.</p><p> </p><p>But it didn't explain those moments where, when he was alone in his room, where visions of Matthew swirled in his head: everything from the grimace he wore subconsciously while checking over reports, the way he laughed when Tom said something amusing as they drank together in the evenings, even those quiet moments when he was lost in his own thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>And Tom knew, when this was through, he would be thinking of Matthew’s bare forearms before going to sleep that night. He was already having a hard time concentrating as it was.</p><p> </p><p>Tom swung and missed. He let out a groan.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s alright!” Matthew called out as Tom bent down to pick up the ball and toss it back. “Just try to stay focused!”</p><p> </p><p><em>Sorry</em>, thought Tom, <em>I’m just a little bit distracted by you</em>. If he had uttered such a thing to Sybil, it would have been welcomed, maybe even eared him a kiss... and Tom would have meant if wholeheartedly. Sybil has been beautiful, inside and out.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what puzzled him so much. He <em>was </em>attracted to women; he had been madly in love with a woman for years, with passion that consumed every fiber of his being. Sybil had been his sun, his moon, and his stars. But every so often, he found himself appreciating men (like Matthew) in a way that wasn't strictly friendly.</p><p> </p><p>As if this wasn't confusing enough, Tom was recalled the dream he’d had not two nights ago, involving himself and Mary, doing things he was certain would earn Matthew’s (well deserved) wrath should he ever learn about it. He had been unable to look his sister-in-law the following morning. Every time he so much as glances at Mary, he remembered the Mary from his dream and felt himself blush. As horrid and uncomfortable as it was, it only seemed to strengthen his case for being very much attracted to women.</p><p> </p><p>It was easier for Tom to surmise that, as his two closest friends and the people who had been the biggest support after losing Sybil, Matthew and Mary occupied more space in his mind than the others. He was lonely as well; it made sense that he would be yearning for comfort, no matter what form it took.</p><p> </p><p>But Tom couldn’t say any of that. “It’s useless! I’ll never be a cricket player!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not with that sort of attitude, you won’t!”</p><p> </p><p>He ignored the irregular thudding in his chest as Matthew beamed and threw the ball again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the birthday gifts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you looking at, darling?”</p><p> </p><p>Matthew looked up sheepishly from the shop window, where his image reflected back to him alongside Mary’s. She looked as lovely as ever, bundled up in her coat. “What do you think of that watch?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s quite nice. Why? Is something wrong with yours?”</p><p> </p><p>Matthew shook his head. “No. I was only thinking that Tom’s birthday is coming up. I wondered if he would like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I already bought Tom a gift,” said Mary, surprising him.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you?”</p><p> </p><p>“He told me about some book he’s been meaning to read for ages now. I took the liberty of purchasing it for him.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a thoughtful gesture and Matthew agreed Tom would probably like it very much. All the same, the watch called out to him. Something about it reminded him of his friend; it was a high quality watch, though nowhere near as flashy as the others displayed. Something he could easily imagine Tom glancing down at throughout the day.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps we could give it to him for Christmas,” suggested Matthew, looking back at the watch again.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no law saying we can’t buy him separate gifts, you know,” Mary pointed out, almost amused. “If you want to give him the watch, just buy it. We can come up with other gifts for Christmas.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a logical course of action but Matthew felt uneasy. “Won’t it be irregular, us giving him separate gifts? We are a married couple, after all.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps, but we are his two closest friends. It’s not that strange.” Funnily enough, her words did not reassure him. She sounded more as if she were trying to convince herself than him.</p><p> </p><p>Matthew frowned at the watch again. “Is Robert buying him something or are he and Cora going to give him a joint gift?”</p><p> </p><p>“Never mind about Papa!” exclaimed Mary in exasperation, her hand settling on his arm. “Go in there and buy the blasted thing already!” Though her words sounded harsh, Mary was clearly in good humor for she was smiling.</p><p> </p><p>Matthew grinned. Perhaps he was being silly about this. “Well, if you insist,” he said before pecking her cheek and walking into the shop.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tom’s birthday was only a week away and Mary was struggling with a decision. The book she had bought him had been tucked away in a drawer in hers and Matthew’s bedroom for weeks now, but Mary was wondering if she ought to give it a more personalized touch.</p><p> </p><p>She flipped open the front, inspecting the two blank pages. She eyed her pen. Should she...? But suppose he hated it?</p><p> </p><p>She let out a sigh through her nose. All this indecision and waffling back and forth reminded her of Matthew’s own insecurity over the watch. As a little joke with her husband, Mary had proposed they make it a competition to see whose gift he would like best: his or hers. The winner was promised a most delicious reward— one befitting of a newly married couple.</p><p> </p><p>However, Mary suspected Matthew’s interest in winning had nothing to do with the “reward” and everything to do with meeting Tom’s approval. <em>“Are you certain it’s something he’d wear?” </em>he pestered her, holding it up for her to inspect closely.<em>“</em><em>Now that I’ve bought it, I’m not quite sure.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Mary had reassured him countless times that Tom would like it and had learned her playful remarks of “<em>He’ll just like mine more, that’s all,”</em> were unhelpful. It didn’t bother her; it was rather sweet, actually, how concerned he was.</p><p> </p><p>So Mary reminded herself that Tom was a friend and that he would not despise her for writing down a few nice things about him. Summoning up here courage, Mary reached for her own, poising it over the page and thinking of the appropriate words to say.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Tom, </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>You’re the wordsmith of the family, so I am certain you could express this in a far more eloquent manner than myself, but I shall do my very best to do my thoughts justice. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>If somebody had told me just two years ago that you and I would be such wonderful friends, I would have laughed in their faces. It’s not a secret I wasn’t exactly fond of you back then. I saw you as someone stealing a beloved sister from me, not as a man who loved her as much as I did. It wasn’t until I saw the two of you together in Ireland that I knew how deeply you cared for her and how happy the two of you were together. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I cannot tell you how glad I am you decided to stay with us here at Downton and not only because you have proven to be easily the best agent we’ve ever had. We finally have been allowed the chance to get to know you better, just as Sybil always wanted us to, and I see now she was right: we have come to love and value you. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>This year has been cruel to us all and you especially, but in spite of that pain, you’ve demonstrated an amazing strength few men are capable of. You’re a wonderful father to your little girl and I thank you very much for letting us be a part of her life. We have come to love her— and you— very much. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I hope this birthday proves to be a happy one for you. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Love,</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Mary</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was oddly sentimental for her, the words drying in ink things she hadn’t ever spoken aloud. It wasn’t a crime, though, to say something nice about a friend who was now a member of their family. Still, she made sure the pages were dry before ringing for Anna, lest she read it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The celebration of his birthday was a bleak one without his Sybil. It was hard to believe last year they had spent it together in their flat in Dublin, blissfully happy. It seemed impossible that the bright young woman he had once called his wife was gone, that their flat was now occupied by some other family, and that he was now here at Downton Abbey as a son-in-law to his former employer and everyone seemed to be genuinely happy to celebrate him. Robert’s toast at dinner and Cora’s consideration of his favorite cake had been much appreciated, but none as much as two particular gifts.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you have a favorite gift?” asked Mary after everyone else (save for himself and Matthew) had gone to bed. It wasn’t often that she joined them at night, usually dismissing herself around the same time as her mother, but Tom had a feeling she had been waiting to ask him this very question.</p><p> </p><p>“I liked the book you gave me. I’m surprised you remembered me mentioning it,” said Tom, pleased to see her wide smile. It seemed to light up the room, even though the only source of light was coming from the fireplace.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve a rather good memory for these sorts of things,” Mary said, almost proudly.</p><p> </p><p>“But I liked yours, too,” Tom said, turning to Matthew, noticing his solemn expression. He was glad when his words caused the other man’s lips to twitch. “It’s very fine. Wherever did you find it?”</p><p> </p><p>“A shop in York,” Matthew said, bashful. “I saw it in the window. I thought it might suit you rather nicely.” Tom thought that was all until Matthew hurriedly informed him, “I asked Barrow about it and he says it’s of rather a high quality. His father’s a clockmaker, you know, so he’s rather knowledgeable on these sorts of things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Tom told him wryly, a little amused, “I do know. He told me once, shortly after I started working here.”</p><p> </p><p>A blush creeped up Matthew’s cheeks. “I’m terribly sorry,” he stammered. “How stupid of me.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom shook his head. “It’s alright. Sometimes I forget myself.” Living at Downton as a servant and living at Downton as a member of the family were two wholly different experiences; Tom wasn’t even quite sure if he was living in the same world now.</p><p> </p><p>“But our of our gifts, whose was best?” asked Mary again, almost impatient. His gaze turned back to her. She looked less pleased than she had before. “Mine or Matthew’s?”</p><p> </p><p>“I like them both,” answered Tom honestly. “Why are you so curious, anyway?”</p><p> </p><p>Before she could answer, Matthew replied, “Because we’ve a bet to see who picked out the better gift... though I think Mary is more invested than myself in it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I won’t ask what the big prize is,” said Tom without thinking, horrified when his brain caught up with him. He stole a glance at Mary, worried he had offended her.</p><p> </p><p>It was clear she had understood his meaning. “That’s rather naughty,” she said, arching one eyebrow as she sipped her whiskey. “I am surprised at you, Tom, letting your mind wander to the gutter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t tease him, darling,” chastised Matthew, who was watching Tom more closely than he normally did. Tom wondered if something was wrong. Was he blushing? “It seems we’re at a draw.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary didn’t seem convinced. “Well, I won’t accept that,” she said, crossing her arms. She seemed to ponder things for a moment before asking Tom, “Did you perchance read the inside of the book? I wrote a little note to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“A note?” Matthew sounded incredulous. “That’s cheating!” Tom has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Apparently Mary wasn’t the only one invested in this little game of theirs and Tom felt rather flattered his praise was apparently worth it... though perhaps he was more excited about the “award”. Tom’s mood darkened for a moment before he reminded himself how ridiculous he was being and confused as to why it bothered him. Was he jealous that they were afforded the opportunity be with the one they loved, or did it have to do with his own confusions miasma of emotions when it came to them? </p><p> </p><p>“No, it isn’t. I wrote it inside of the book. Therefore it’s a part of the book now.” She looked very pleased with herself. She turned back to Tom with an expectant look.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid I didn’t,” he admitted. It hasn’t even occurred to him to do such a thing.</p><p> </p><p>Mary hummed. “Well, you ought to do so. Then you can give us the answer in the morning. I have a feeling it will change your mind.” She stood, walking across the room so she could kiss his cheek. The place where her lips touched him burned. “Good night, Tom. Happy birthday.”</p><p> </p><p>He was left alone with Matthew for another half hour or so, talking about this and that. It amazed him, how long their conversations could stretch about absolutely nothing at all.</p><p> </p><p>When he went to bed, he decided to read the inscription Mary had written, since she had asked. He was unprepared for the tears that formed in his eyes. He’d always known Mary cared, of course, but he was nevertheless touched by her words. </p><p> </p><p>He placed the book and watch on his nightstand so that they would be the first things he saw upon waking tomorrow morning and wear the watch, wondering if Matthew would notice. Though he was widowed and lonely, he knew he was loved.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Somehow Matthew had been the one to be given the task of carrying Sybbie around while Tom was out, but he didn’t mind. Not at all. She was still small yet, so delicate. He sometimes worried about dropping her, so he put all his focus on making sure he didn’t.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“See this, darling?” He cooed, bringing her over to the Christmas tree. “In a few days, there will be all sorts of presents for you underneath it. What do you think of that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Sybbie didn’t answer him. She was still too small to talk, apart from saying </span> <em> <span class="s2">Dada</span></em><span class="s1">. She said that often, whenever she wanted Tom. Sometimes she woke Nanny in the night, begging for Tom, which meant he was roused at early hours in the morning so he could be the one to feed her the bottle. He didn’t seem to mind though, always telling Matthew about it proudly. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Of course, it wouldn’t just be Sybbie receiving Christmas gifts. Mary had proposed once again that they compete to ascertain just who could get Tom the better Christmas gift. For his birthday, she had won in a most underhanded manner, writing him a very sweet note for him in the front of his book. Matthew was determined to win this time... and not just for the promise of a </span> <span class="s2">reward</span> <span class="s1">, as he would freely admit he’d very much enjoyed Mary’s as much as she had. The only problem was that he hadn’t found a gift yet. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can take her.” Tom’s voice startled him. He turned to find his friend next to him, beaming. He handed Sybbie off, a little sad to see her go. “Hello, my darling,” Tom cooed, clearly enamored by his little girl. “Thank you for minding her.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s no trouble,” said Matthew, gazing down at little Sybil. “It was nice to spend time with my favorite niece.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom grinned before turning back to her. “You’re very good with her. Rather a natural.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew felt his cheeks grow warm. “Do you think so?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Certainly.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s a relief,” breathed Matthew. “I hope I’m as good with my own.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom glanced up. “Is Mary—?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No!” Matthew cried out. “No, not as far as I know. Not yet.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nodded. “So you want children, then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We have to have an heir,” Matthew reminded him. The importance of having a son had been impressed upon them both, though he was sure Mary needed no reminding. If she had been born a boy, she would be the heir to Downton, not him. though he supposed if she had been born a boy, they wouldn’t have had the good fortune to be married. “But yes, we do want children.” Matthew hoped they would be blessed by sons and daughters. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom smiled. “Well, I know the two of you will be brilliant. You’ve been quite wonderful with Sybbie.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew felt rather warm inside. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear. Especially from you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It means you are a very good father... and I’m flattered to have your seal of approval.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and suddenly Matthew had an idea of what to buy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary awoke in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun had risen. Matthew was sound asleep but that didn’t stop her from kissing his shoulders, his neck,and then his jaw.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew finally stirred. “What a wonderful way to wake up,” he said before Mary’s lips moved to his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Happy Christmas,” she whispered before straddling him. His hands went to her hips on instinct. “Would you like your gift now or later?” She leaned over him, lips moving up near his ear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But we’ve not yet had a chance to give Tom his,” pointed out Matthew, reminding her of their little competition. For a split second, Mary found herself imagining a gift much like this one. She already felt her cheeks heating up, knowing full well how inappropriate it was.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“That’s not a gift,” she pointed out. Terminology was very important. “That’s a </span> <em> <span class="s2">reward</span> </em> <span class="s1">. And you can give me mine later tonight, if you’d like.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm,” said Matthew as her hands moved up his chest, his hand sliding down. “Very well... though it’s a shame that you’ll be giving me a gift now and a reward later.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be so sure,” said Mary, now facing him without any kisses. “I won last time.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And now it’s my turn,” countered Matthew before rolling her over. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The snow had fallen during the night, blanketing the estate in white snow. Tom hadn’t seen this much snow on the ground in some time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Aren’t you cold?” Mary’s voice disrupted his thoughts. He turned around, finding her and Matthew walking towards him, bundled up in their coats. He was pleased to see was wearing scarf he had given her yesterday; given her eye for fashion, he wasn’t sure it was something she would wear, but he thought it would keep her warm during their long walks on the estate. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. Not at all.” He stared out at the white field. “I rather like it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I won’t ask why.” Mary strode towards him. “Has the judge decided who won the competition?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom rolled his eyes. “No, and I’m not going to. You both did an excellent job and I liked both your gifts very much.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t mind that they had made a game of buying him presents. In fact, it was flattering, seeing they valued his good opinion so much. The only problem was that Tom hated the idea of picking sides. Matthew had gone above and beyond this time, giving him children’s books so that he could read them to Sybbie, which rather outshined Mary’s set of pens. Still, he remembered Matthew’s disappointment when he’d crowned Mary victor last time and hated the thought of upsetting her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary pouted, bringing Tom’s attention to her lips. “But that’s no fun.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Speaking of fun, I haven’t had a snowball fight in some time.” Matthew had joined him now as well, standing on the opposite side of Tom. He nudged Tom’s arm. “Are you game?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom couldn’t resist smiling. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not me,” said Mary, exacting them with a disapproving look. “I’ll sit and watch.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, don’t be like that, my darling,” Matthew cajoled her. “It’ll be fun.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For you, perhaps. Not for me. I’ll cheer you both on.” She walked away from them, clearing the snow off the bench. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom watched her, entranced by her dark hair juxtaposed against the white snow. A glance at Matthew showed he was similarly distracted... and Tom used it to his advantage. He knelt down, forming a ball of snow with his hands. It wasn’t very big or very sturdy, but Matthew was taken by surprise when it was launched at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why, you—“ He sputtered as Tom laughed and ran from him, aware it was only a matter of time before the favor was repaid. Soon, they were lobbing snowballs at one another, most of the missing, but enjoying themselves. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However, Tom stopped his attack on Matthew when he realized Mary was shouting out advice to her husband. “I can’t help but notice you’re only cheering for Matthew,” he called out to her on the bench, arms crossed yet grinning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, he is my husband. I ought to show some partiality.” She cocked her head to the side. “Besides, I’m still put out with you. You were supposed to let me win, not give us a draw.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mary, that’s cheating! You can’t bribe Tom, not after the stunt you pulled last time!” Matthew exclaimed, jumping into the fray. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not a bribe— just an incentive.” Even from across the path, Tom could see her smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A devious thought occurred to him. “Very well,” he relented, kneeling to the ground. He began forming another snowball, which prompted Matthew into furiously making more of his own. However, when he rose to his feet, he chuckled it Mary’s way instead of at his opponent. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary dodged it, mouth falling open. Matthew roared with laughter from his side of the field. Tom laughed until Mary rose to her feet, stalking after him like a lioness ready to take down her prey. “Tom!” Her voice echoed across the field. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom knew it was time to run but Mary chased after him with speed. He was impressed by how fast she was, never guessing she would be so swift. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">When Tom stumbled and fell to his knees, he accepted he was a goner. However, when he turned around face his fate, he watched as a snowball hit Mary’s arm. She stopped running, turning around slowly. Tom followed her gaze to Matthew, who was grinning devilishly. “Oh, </span> <em> <span class="s2">I</span> </em> <span class="s1"> see how it is,” growled Mary before kneeling down herself to start forming a snowball. Before she had even constructed one, Matthew had already hit her with another.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom felt like a child again as they chased after one another and played in the snow. Mary had gotten over her anger at him, her competitive spirit thriving as she joined in. He partnered with her at times to attack Matthew. Of course, sometimes he was the one on the line of fire and was pelted by snowballs; other times, he allied against Matthew, like when he heroically leapt in front of one of Mary’s missives intended for her husband. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew had helped him up. “Are you alright?” He asked as Tom took his hand. Though it was nearly numb by now, Tom was acutely aware of it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Course.” He let Matthew pull him to his feet before ducking when Mary sent one flying at his head.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t realize it until Mary dumped snow down his back, but Tom was having the most fun he had ever had at Downton. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look at them out there, playing like children,” observed Robert from the library window. He had been at work at his desk when he noticed them outside.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t tell me you disapprove,” Cora said from behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “It’s so good, seeing Tom have some fun after all he’s been through.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was only going to say that I think that it’s nice to see them all getting on so well.” He turned around to face his wife. “They’re running Downton now and they will be for the next fifty years. It’s good to see them enjoying one another’s company.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And who would have thought we would say that about Tom?” teased Cora before dropping a kiss to Robert’s head and watching their daughter and sons-in-laws having the times of their lives. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. the mistake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Tom met them at the platform. He was sight for sore eyes— not that Matthew’s eyes were particularly sore. Spending his days and nights only in the presence of Mary was easily one of the most blissful holidays he had ever gone. Only their honeymoon rivaled it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Tom! It’s marvelous to see you!” Mary exclaimed, clearly as excited as Matthew was to see their friend. She embraced him with an added kiss on the cheek. Matthew noticed she had been doing that more often. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You both look very cheerful,” said Tom, reciprocating the hug before offering a handshake to Matthew. “I take it the anniversary trip was a pleasant one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Yes, it was, rather,” said Matthew, taking his hand. It occurred to him, how impersonal the gesture was, and how he could afford to show his best friend a little more affection than that. He pulled him forward, one hand still holding his, the other wrapping around to give him a hug. Tom made a sort of </span> <em> <span class="s2">oof</span> </em> <span class="s1"> sound, but hugged him back. When they pulled away, Tom was grinning.</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry we left you for so long,” Mary said, hands behind her back and wearing a smile. “It must have been torture for you, being left at home with only poor old Edith for company.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew was about to chastise her, but was prevented from doing so by Tom, who replied, “Don’t be so hard on her. Edith’s a lovely girl. It was nice to spend a little more time with her, even though we were both very busy.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew grinned, pleased that Tom wasn’t like nearly everyone else, who let Mary get away with saying such things. He loved his wife dearly but he didn’t quite understand her disdain for her sister. Mary was less pleased, frowning almost immediately with a curious look in her eye. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope you don’t mind I drove your car down,” apologized Tom as they approached it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s quite alright,” said Matthew, clapping a hand to Tom’s back. “I trust you more than I trust anyone else with her.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Her?” Mary arched an eyebrow. “So the car is female? How very interesting.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cars are like ships,” said Matthew as he climbed in. Tom looked a little uncertain, moving towards the back, yet Mary seemed to have decided to take that spot, so he climbed into the passengers side without using the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">She awoke early in the morning, a cramping sensation already in her abdomen. She didn’t need to walk into the bathroom and see that her thighs were stained with blood to know what was the matter, yet Mary did so anyway.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tears stung in her eyes. For over a year now, since getting married, her and Matthew had been trying for a child— for an heir. Dr. Ryder had performed a procedure almost a year ago that was meant to clear up the issue but so far she still wasn’t pregnant. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took Mary a minute or so before she was able to walk out of the bathroom, ringing for Anna. One embarrassed glance at the sheets told her they needed to be washed... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling?” mumbled Matthew, hearing her feet pad against the carpet. “What are you doing up so early?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary wasn’t sure she could tell him without crying... and as it turned out, she couldn’t. Matthew was wide awake, leaping out of bed to pull her close to him. His mouth was pressed against the top of her head, murmuring the sweetest things as she wept. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you think it’s so impossible for us? To have a baby?” choked out Mary once she was a little more composed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perhaps it isn’t our time quite yet. Maybe we aren’t at the right place in our lives for a baby,” answered Matthew. “But it will be. Soon.” He kissed her temple again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary wished she could be as certain as he was.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was the only one who seemed to notice Mary was not quite herself at luncheon. She was quieter than normal, only half paying attention to the proceedings. Even when Edith made some remark, Mary didn’t respond with her normal bite. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom supposed he wasn’t actually the only one. Matthew seemed to be stealing nervous looks her way which he only noticed because he remained more preoccupied by Matthew than her should. <em>Damn it, Tom.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After luncheon, Tom decided to try and take her out of it. “I’m going to check on Yew Tree Farm this afternoon. Do you care to join me?” He asked as they began clearing from the dining room.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary hesitated before nodding. So focused was he by her that he didn’t notice Matthew sneaking up as well. “Yew Tree Farm?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” said Tom. “Old Mr. Drewe is getting up in years. I’m wondering we ought to suggest a farmhand come down and help him or perhaps bring one of his children up here to deal with the pigs.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew nodded thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea at all.” He looked over at Mary, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Tom’s insides clenched at the sight in an unpleasant way. “I’ll see you later, my darling.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All Mary had to offer him was a placid smile, one that didn’t meet her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked to Yew Tree Farm after determining it wasn’t a long trek. The ground was damp, sometimes very wet in spots from the storm last night. “I’m sorry,” said Tom. “I wasn’t thinking.” Already he saw mud on the skirt of her dress. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary shook her head. “If you apologize to anyone, let it be Anna. She’s the one who will have to clean it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, when they approached a large puddle of water blocking the muddied path, Tom decided to insist upon being gallant. “Your feet will be soaking otherwise,” he said. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what are you proposing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can carry you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be ridiculous, Tom,” scoffed Mary. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why’s that so ridiculous?” When Mary could find no suitable explanation, Tom walked over to her. “Right. I’ll left you up on the count of three. One, two—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was light but Tom hadn’t accounted for how affected he would be holding her. The scent of her perfume was overpowering as he carried her over the puddle, acutely award that one hand was against her ribs and the other under under knees. He’d never touched her like this before.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a relief once he had reached dry ground again. “You’re rather flushed,” pointed out Mary, narrowing her eyes. “I knew you shouldn’t have done it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m fine,” insisted Tom, not wanting her to think he was out of shape or for her to know that the exertion wasn’t the cause of it at all. “Let’s go see Mr. Drewe.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom spoke to the old man as Mary watched the pigs with a keen interest, especially the piglets. She was already a little more herself... or so he thought. When they began trekking back up to the house, she seemed bluer than ever. It was that which prompted him to say, “You've been a peculiar mood all day.” When she said nothing in response, he added, “You didn’t even have the energy to argue with poor old Edith today.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary arched an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like it when I argued with your <em>precious</em> Edith,” she spat, her animosity nearly palpable. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was surprised. She hadn’t been this harsh with him, not since before he married Sybil. Tom wondered what he had done wrong. Her words rubbed him the wrong way. “Edith’s just my friend. My sister,” he clarified. “I like her very much. I only wish that the two of you would get along better. That’s all.” He paused before adding, “You’re my friend too. I like it when my friends get along.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She let out a sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I have been rather off today.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I help?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. I’m afraid it’s unfixable,” said Mary, a soft smile creeping across her lips. “But thank you for offering. It’s very sweet of you.” He could tell she meant it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, her smile faded and she was back to being glum again. Tom wasn’t happy with that. It wasn’t until they trampled through another muddy area that Tom was struck by a stupid idea. “Whatever are you doing?” Mary asked as he bent over, removing his gloves to pick up mud with his index and middle fingers. Before she knew it, he was smearing it across her cheek, which may have been a mistake. Even with the mud, Tom was struck by how smooth and soft her skin was under his fingertips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was gaping at him. “What did you do that for?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Remember of our snowball fight in the winter? Well, we haven’t any snow now, but I thought it might cheer you up.” Saying it aloud sounded stupid. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary peered at him closely before hastily removing her gloves. “You’ll regret this, Tom Branson,” she vowed, kneeling down and picking up a fistful of mud. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom knew he was in trouble but laughed anyway. He moved to dodge her attack, only to slip and fall on his back. He winced at the pain in his lower back as the mud she meant to aim at his face landed somewhere behind his head. He only had a moment’s notice before realizing she too was falling, and let out a groan as she landed on his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” said Mary hastily overtop on him. She pushed herself up, the mud on her hand staining his jacket, but remained on top of him. Her brown eyes were inspecting him carefully. “Are you alright?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m fine,” Tom assured her, not wanting her to feel guilty. “It was my own stupid idea. I suppose I’ve paid by price.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He thought she might remove herself now but instead she continued looking down at him. “Please don’t call it stupid,” she murmured, a curious look in her gaze. “It was sweet. Very sweet.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom couldn’t help but smile, though he felt as if he were in some kind of trance. It was like he couldn’t take his eye off her... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The hand she hadn’t used to fling mud at him moved towards his face. Tom’s lips parted as she brushed back a bit of his hair. Since coming back to Downton, he’d forgone the pomade, not wanting to be associated again with the style he’d worn as a servant. Her fingertips, like her lips whenever she kissed his cheek, burned his skin most delightfully.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hardly noticed she was leaning down but when he did, he acted on instinct. Tom surged up, meeting her halfway, lips and teeth knocking together. He tasted blood for a split second but he was quickly overwhelmed by taste of <em>her</em>. Though he had never allowed himself to imagine it in depth, kissing Mary was far better than he could have dreamed. He felt her fingers on the side of his face, feather-light and moving down to cup his jaw.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Though their forbidden kiss had felt like heaven, when the time came to finally part, Tom and Mary were both in hell. <em>My God</em>, he thought, knowing both their minds were fixated on the same man, </span> <em> <span class="s2">What have we done?</span> </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. the situation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Matthew stared out the window wistfully, wishing he could have joined Mary and Tom for their trip to Yew Tree Farm. It was a splendid day, much nicer than yesterday with all the rain. Truth be told, he would have rather spent any afternoon with his two favorite people than stuck inside busying himself with paperwork.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, he told himself, it had to be this way. Robert, though he was a skilled man who had been running this estate for decades, wasn’t the best at keeping track of things. His fiasco with the railroad had nearly bankrupted the estate. With Matthew’s tenacity and expertise in the law, he could prevent future mishaps from occurring. Tom was more understanding of the issues faced by the farmers and Mary‘s knowledge of the estate kept things in order. Her devotion to Downton and her desire to be involved meant she was willing to see to the tasks neither of he nor Tom found time to do. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew smiled. The three of them made a good team. He couldn’t think of two people he would rather have as partners in assisting him in this. Though he sincerely hoped that it would be a long time before he became the Earl of Grantham, he was relieved to know he would have those two by his side when he did.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Movement from outside the window captured his attention. Matthew watched Mary and Tom approaching the house quickly, as if their lives depended on it. It was hard to make out their faces from this far away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew waited until they reached the house before meeting them in the hall. He was going to ask about Yew Tree Farm when he was taken by a surprise. “My goodness!” He said in between laughs. “You look as if you’ve been wrestling in the mud! Did you have a disagreement with Drewe’s pigs?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary and Tom stared back at him, very muddy and without any humor. He soon realized his joke was unappreciated... and that something was wrong between them. Tom looked petrified and Mary appeared sadder than she had been when they left. Their eyes were darting back and forth between him and Barrow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We fell,” Tom said finally, strangely emotionless. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I can see that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Barrow, send Anna up to draw me a bath and please do the same for Mr. Branson,” Mary told the underbutler, her voice shaking. “I need to clean up.“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” Matthew said, disturbed by how close she sounded close to tears. What had happened? Why was she like this? He glanced over to Tom, who was staunchly avoiding eye contact with him. “Please, don’t let me hold you up.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary nodded, practically running up the stairs. Tom lingered behind, eyes trained towards the floor, hands in his pockets. He waited until Mary reached the landing before saying, “I’d best go up, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” echoed Matthew, but once Tom started advancing towards the stairs, he walked forward and stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. Wet mud met his fingertips but Matthew didn’t care, not when Tom’s eyes locked with his and he saw the pain within them. “Can you tell me what’s happened? Is she alright?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t tell you here,” ground out Tom, eyes cast down to the floor again. He sounded very choked up as he said, “But I want you to know I’m sorry. I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I am very sorry, Matthew. You’ve been a good friend to me, only I’m afraid I’ve not been a good one to you. I won’t even ask that you forgive me because I know I don’t deserve it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew’s hand slid off his shoulders. What was he saying? He didn’t understand andremained rooted to his spot as Tom pushed away, walking up the stairs a healthy distance from Mary. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary felt sick during her bath. She didn’t allow herself to cry; no, that would only arouse Anna’s suspicions. Though she loved her maid dearly and trusted her with some of her greatest secrets, this was something she couldn’t quite bring herself to share. Sleeping with a man when she wasn’t yet married was one thing, but betraying her husband, the man she loved... that was even more shameful in her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She had to tell him. There was no way she could carry on with life if he didn’t, even though she was certain he would hate her for it. The worst part was that she knew he would have every right to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">God, why had she done it? When she thought back to that moment, all she could remember was thinking how much she adored Tom for his efforts to brighten her mood. When the sun had cast itself over his face and brought out the lighter strands of his hair, Mary had been left realizing how beautiful he was... and then suddenly they’d been kissing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She didn’t let herself think about the kiss itself. It was bad enough they’d done it, but allowing herself dwell on it seemed just as awful as if she was committing the offense again. She wasn’t about to let herself recall that swooping feeling in her stomach or that passion that he had responded with... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re quiet today,” remarked Anna, as she helped Mary wash her hair. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary tensed, remembering Tom’s words just before he’d let his muddy fingers run down her cheek. “Am I? I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s quite alright,” assured Anna before dumping clean water over her head to rinse out the shampoo and mud. She waited before adding, “It will be alright, milady. You and Mr. Crawley will have a baby soon.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary almost chuckled. It seemed hard to believe that just this morning, her biggest trouble was not having a baby. She thought back to Matthew’s insistences that perhaps it wasn’t the right time for them. She couldn’t help but agree now; God must have known she would do something horrid like this and decided not give them a child so that Matthew might make a clean escape. Her husband had been nothing but kind to her this morning as she wept and carried on, and how had he been repaid? By having his wife kiss his best friend. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was somewhat horrified upon entering her room, dressed only in her robe and a nightgown, to find Matthew waiting for her on the edge of their bed. He wore a solemn expression. Oh God... had Tom told him? She felt angry with him suddenly; Matthew was <em>her</em> husband. If anyone should be telling him about this, it was her. Why was he intruding upon their marriage? Hadn’t he done that enough?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anna, I wonder if you might leave Mary and I alone for a while,” he asked her maid, still serious, though she didn’t hear any anger. “She’ll ring you once she needs you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course, sir,” Anna said, curtsying and leaving the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once it was just them, Mary stood, frozen in fear, waiting for him to tell her that he knew what she had done. But it never happened. Instead, Matthew rose to his feet. “You look beautiful,” he said, smiling slightly. “I always love seeing you with your hair down.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Under normal circumstances, Mary might have preened under his praise before kissing him to show her gratitude; now she couldn’t say anything. She didn’t deserve his compliments. She was unworthy of it, unworthy of him. When his hand reached out to touch her hair, Mary took a step back. She couldn’t bear to let him taint himself by touching her, especially not when it mimicked the action that she had done to Tom. She averted her gaze so she didn’t have to see his pained expression. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something is wrong. Between you and Tom.” He backed up, sitting on the edge of the bed again. “I’d like for you to tell me what’s happened.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary nodded. “I was going to,” she promised him. She still couldn’t look at him. “Though I warn you that once I’m through, you’ll despise me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was silence. She was about to ready herself to starting when Matthew said, “Do you remember what I told you? That night you told me of Mr. Pamuk?” When Mary glanced up, she found him looking at her seriously. “I could <em>never</em> despise you, Mary. You are my wife and I love you more than anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somehow that made her feel worse. <em>You won’t once I’m through telling you</em>. There no point in keeping it secret any longer. “I kissed Tom.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The story came pouring out and so did the tears she had been bottling up in the bath. It was as if she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t trying to justify her repugnant actions but she felt the need to explain the kindness he had shown her, though perhaps that was an effort to protect Tom from Matthew’s wrath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she was through, he surprised her by jumping to his feet and pulling her into a crushing kiss. His lips were ravenous, tongue trying to claim her mouth as trailed over the lips Tom had kissed, almost with the same ferocity. Mary gasped, shocked by his fervor, which allowed him that access he had been trying to seek. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they pulled away, Mary looked at him with astonishment. Confused, she waited for him to explain himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not angry with you, my darling,” said Matthew, reaching out to cup her cheek. She could see that much in his eyes, which still held so much love that she felt undeserving of. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I’m not.” He kissed the crown of her head. “I love you. And you’ve been honest with me.” He pulled her to him, tucking her head underneath his chin. “I know it’s been difficult for you, not having a child yet. I don’t blame you for seeking out comfort, no matter how unorthodox a manner it is.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Matthew, it’s nothing to do with having no baby,” insisted Mary, pushing herself away from him. “I have no excuses for my behavior because there is none. I betrayed you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Betraying me would have meant keeping it a secret and continuing with it without telling me,” he said. “But you haven’t done.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary didn’t understand. “Should I be worried about your definition of infidelity, then? Nothing counts, as long as we tell the other first?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew let out a sigh. “Of course not— though I hope you know that if it was me in your shoes right now, I’d tell you as soon as I was able.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary didn’t like the thought of Matthew kissing anyone else, which was why she didn’t understand how he was so blasé about all this. Mary was about to tell him this when she realized she would have no right to be indignant. “I suppose I’d deserve it if you did,” she said self deprecatingly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew sighed. “Darling, I’m not going to punish you. Or Tom,” he added. He frowned. “Speaking of Tom, I had better go see to him. He was just as broken up about this as you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary said nothing, though she felt guilty. Poor Tom. She hadn’t bothered to think much about him in all this, too worried about telling Matthew. She said nothing as her husband kissed her cheek and walked to the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until he left her that it occurred to Mary that the phrase <em>It meant nothing</em> had not left her lips. She had not uttered it nor had Matthew made her say it. She was glad he hadn’t... because it hadn’t meant nothing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom knew who it was by knock alone. Seated at the edge of his bed and stomach twisting, he called out, “Come in.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew entered the room. Tom looked down at his knees, too ashamed to meet his eye. “Mary’s told you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She has, yes.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nodded. “I’ll leave as soon as I can.” Kieran would likely still allow him and Sybbie to stay with him, though he hated the thought of leaving the Crawleys behind, especially Mary and Matthew.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But they didn’t want him here anymore. Not after this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No one is leaving, least of all you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom looked up, confused. There was nothing in Matthew’s expression or stance to suggest any anger. “What?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re my friend. Mine and Mary’s friend,” corrected Matthew. “You’re one of us now and I’m not going to let you leave because of a little thing like this.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How does Mary feel about it?” Tom asked. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’s as cut up as you are. She doesn’t believe me when I insist I’m not angry with either of you.” Matthew joined him on the edge of the bed, which was disconcerting, given how many times Tom had thought of him while trying to fall asleep in this very bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t understand,” Tom confessed. “If I found out some man had kissed Sybil while we were married, I’d have attacked him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew chuckled. “Well, I suppose you are lucky that you and I are different in that way.” He was silent, contemplative, before saying, “You see, I suppose I understand. A little. Not really, as I’ve never been in your shoes, but I think I understand what happened. From the way Mary describes it, she was sad and you cheered her up. She was grateful for it. I won’t pretend I know what it’s like for you, but I expect you feel lonely. And with the anniversary of Sybil’s—” He couldn’t quite seem to bring himself to say it. “I suppose, being her sister, Mary reminds you of her.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom could have took the coward’s way out and agreed with him, but Tom couldn’t. Matthew deserved honesty. “But she doesn’t.” He shook his head. “Nothing about Mary reminds me of Sybil. They’ve some similarities, yes—“ Like dark hair, like their posh accents, like the fact they had many of the same anecdotes of growing up at Downton, “— but Mary is Mary and Sybil was Sybil.” He met Matthew’s eye, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. If this was the last time they were to be together alone, Tom wanted to look into his eyes and be honest with him. “You’re right. I have been lonely, but I didn’t forget who I was with.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew seemed taken aback and though he was ashamed, Tom didn’t look away. “This doesn’t change things.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Doesn’t it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Matthew said sharply, rising to his feet. “I know things will be a little uncomfortable for a while, but you’re still my closest friend and I don’t want you going away.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about Mary? Is she comfortable with my staying?” challenged Tom. Though they had both acted on it, Tom wasn’t sure how much she could be blamed for it. At any rate, he certainly didn’t blame her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom narrowed his eyes. “I’d prefer to hear her say it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then she will,” said Matthew. “I’ll see you later.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just before dinner, Mary had drifted over to him, dressed in a dark red dress, looking almost unfairly radiant. “Matthew says you won’t stay unless I ask you to,” said Mary quietly, taking a great deal of effort to not let her gaze linger on him for too long. Tom wished he had the same control; he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. “So I’m here to let you know that I don’t want you to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” he managed to say. “I’ll stay at Downton, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good.” She smiled. It wasn’t genuine but Tom sensed her insincerity stemmed from the general discomfort of the situation rather than from speaking with him. Without another word, she walked away, leaving him all alone again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. the walk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Since the incident, Tom and Mary had abstained all forms of contact with one another. It vexed Matthew, who now had to split his time between the two of them and be careful what he said, lest they grow uncomfortable.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had taken weeks, with both of them, to convince them he wasn’t angry. Matthew couldn’t explain why he wasn’t; when Tom talked about punching any man who would have touched Sybil, it reminded Matthew of the time he’d struck Sir Richard and how marvelous it had felt to take out all that pent up jealousy and fury. But with Tom, it had never entered his mind to react in such a way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The one thought that had entered his mind, however, is that he wished he could have seen it himself. It was a fleeting thought, one that was quickly dismissed, and one that Matthew tried not to dwell on. He supposed it must be linked to his peculiar realization of how fine they looked together and why, with their shared desire to put distance between them, he no longer was able to admire them standing next to one another, exchanging smiles and whispers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was easily his most selfish reason to resolve this rift that had sprung up between them, but he had other motivations as well: Robert had noticed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom had excused himself for bed early, claiming he had a headache and leaving the dining room, where he, Matthew, and Robert had been smoking cigars and drinking some brandy. Once it was just them two, Robert asked, “Have Mary and Tom had a fight?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not that I am aware of, no,” lied Matthew easily. He took a sip of his drink. It was best to play innocent; nobody would understand it and no one else needed to know about the incident. The last thing Matthew wanted was for Tom to leave, which he would invariably do if the secret ever stretched further than just the three of them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robert frowned, evidently unconvinced. “They seem out of sorts.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I haven’t noticed.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he and Mary went to bed that night, he drew her close to him. After a moment or so of tension, Mary relaxed against him. Her hand moved down to touch his, which was wrapped around her middle. It was utterly serene and quiet: a far cry from where they had been not a week ago, when Mary had been in tears and demanding to know how he could still love her. He hated to break this calm, but knew he must. “You ought to give some thought to mending things with Tom.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary stiffened. Her hand left his. “We’ve been over this, Matthew.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Robert knows something is wrong.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s not normally that observant.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, he’s not.” He waited before adding, “So that means everyone else has noticed something is amiss.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary sighed. “I can’t think of that yet, Matthew.” She rolled onto her side. “What if we made a story up? Some reason why we aren’t speaking? Wouldn’t that be simpler?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you angry with Tom?” Matthew asked. Perhaps a part of her resented him for his part in the whole proceeding. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” was her immediate answer. “It was my fault. All of it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew knew that wasn’t quite true, at least not all of it. The way it had been presented by Mary was that she had kissed Tom. The way Tom had presented it to Matthew was that he had kissed Mary. They both seemed perfectly content to shoulder the blame themselves instead of admitting they had both acted on some shared yet unspoken desire. Matthew wasn’t sure if they really believed that or if it was simply nobility getting in the way or both. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you miss him?” Matthew knew he would if he were in her position. He couldn’t imagine going for days without speaking to Tom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good night, Matthew,” Mary said tightly before rolling on her side. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew sighed and Mary scooted away from him. It wasn’t until his eyes were closed and his breathing slowed that the perfect idea entered his brain and woke him up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary had reluctantly agreed to join Matthew as he walked with Tom to cemetery on the first anniversary of Sybil’s death. Though she had been eschewing all forms of contact with Tom, Matthew’s reminder that Sybil was her sister was what tempted her in the end. Over the past few weeks, since that kiss with Tom, Mary was riddled with guilt. Not only was she a horrible wife but she was a horrible sister as well. Edith could certainly attest to that; though Sybil was no longer with them, Mary couldn’t try and justify her actions. She had kissed her sister’s husband and she had enjoyed it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The men and baby Sybbie waited for her at the bottom of staircase. She didn’t allow herself to look at Tom, worried about the illicit feelings that might stir up if she did. Instead, she focused on Sybbie.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary should have known something was up when there was no car. “A walk is best, don’t you think?” Matthew said, arm linked with Mary’s. “For a day like today, when we should be remembering Sybil.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose you’re right,” agreed Tom. Mary said nothing, putting one step in front of the other and holding tight to Matthew’s arm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were halfway to the village when Matthew stopped walking. “Oh, dear.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the matter?” demanded Mary, halting as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you know, I just remembered your father asked me to help him with some important paperwork this afternoon?” Mary couldn’t believe he was doing this; he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was blatantly lying. “Tom, I am so sorry to ask, but do you mind if I turn back?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” said Tom, though he sounded as irritated as Mary felt. No doubt he had been subjected to Matthew’s badgering that they kiss and make up— though perhaps that wasn’t the best phrase to use, all things considered.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll come with you,” said Mary, finding an easy solution to this problem. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to stop you from seeing Sybil. I know how much you were looking forward to it.” Matthew managed a small smile but Mary knew he was holding back a larger one. “I’ll see you two later.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary stood, glaring at the back of his head as he turned around. She could just throttle him and she wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t do so once she returned home. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” said Tom, “I suppose we know what that was about.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Mary said with equal displeasure. “I suppose we do.” She turned around, walking purposefully and catching up with Tom, who had been a few paces ahead of her and Matthew before they had stopped. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was just about to propose that they not say anything when Tom said, “In a way, I’m glad we’ve a chance to be alone. I wanted a chance to apologize to you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tom, you’ll do no such thing. If anyone should be doing that, it’s me. So I might as well tell you that I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was wrong of me. I should have stopped it,” insisted Tom. “You were vulnerable and I took advantage of that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was a married woman kissing my brother-in-law,” Mary argued. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I’m a widowed man who kissed a married woman,” countered Tom. They stopped in the middle of the road. It was the first time they were speaking of it and the first time they had looked one another in the eye since it happened. There was moment of tension before Tom let out a sigh. “How about we say we are both to blame, that we shan’t do it again, and be very grateful that Matthew is so understanding?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary didn’t know how to voice her relief adequately. “We might as well.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They let out a shaky laughs, the discomfort having eased a degree or two. “So, what have you been up to?” asked Tom, as if there had never been a problem in the first place.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom had missed Mary’s company over the past couple of weeks: of that, he was not ashamed to admit. He updated her on the farms and told her about how he was working on setting up an office for himself. She in turn told him about a sitting room for her and Matthew that she had been spending some time on. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When they made it to the cemetery, their conversation died down. Sybbie was squirming in his arms, impatient from the long walk. Still, Tom held her until they reached Sybil’s grave. “Hold my hand now, darling,” he said after lowering her. One small hand gripped his fingers as she stood on shaky legs. “This is your Mummy, Sybil.” He reached out, patting her head with his other hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was looking at him curiously. Tom didn’t ask why. When she noticed his looking, she turned away, walking two steps towards Sybil. She laid her hand on the stone, bowing her head. Tom joined her, though he had to crouch to keep holding Sybbie’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a moment or so, Tom noticed Mary was crying. She wasn’t making much noise, apart from a few sniffles. Tom felt around in his pockets for a handkerchief. “Thank you,” she croaked, accepting it from him. Their fingers touched during the exchange, as palpable as a current of electricity before Mary began drying her eyes. She didn’t seem to notice, but Tom’s eyes lingered on her hand, still resting atop the stone. He wanted to hold it: to comfort her, to ease that hurt in his own heart, to feel a little less lonely on this wretched day, and because he <em>wanted</em> to.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last reason was the same one that told him he shouldn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once her tears had stopped and she had given the handkerchief back, Mary apologized. “I didn’t mean to make such a production.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She was your sister,” Tom said, as both an explanation to her and a reminder to himself. “You miss her, as we all do.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was that curious look in her eyes again as well something Tom recognized all too well: guilt. He turned away from her. “Do you mind giving me a moment alone? I’d like a chance to speak to her myself.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course.” Mary lingered by his side a moment more to ask, “Would you like me to take the baby?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom smiled. Sybbie wasn’t really much of a baby anymore but he figured she always would be one in their eyes. “Yes. Thank you.” He watched Mary scoop her up into her arms with joy, observing how they looked very much like a loving mother and daughter, before feeling sick. He was standing before Sybbie’s actual mother, his <em>wife</em>, and yet here he was comparing her with her sister. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom waited until Mary had carried Sybbie a respectable distance before finally speaking to Sybil. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sorry for listening to that sham of a doctor, sorry for not heeding Dr. Clarkson’s warning, sorry for so very many things. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You deserved better.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her short life had been spent in a world of frivolity until she had been plunged into chaos and turmoil in Dublin because she followed him there, only to be forced to return the place she had fled and die there. She had never known real freedom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Better than me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A man who had at times been sharp with her, a man who couldn’t seem to make up his mind about whether or not he liked men or women. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did love you, though.” Everything about her had been perfection. “And I’m grateful you loved me, too.” His fingertips ran against the rough stone, like sandpaper: not at all like her soft hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wish you were here.” For his sake, for their daughter’s... “Because I don’t know what to do anymore.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He spent his nights either dreaming of her, her sister, or Matthew. He supposed it was safe to admit that, in the confines of his own mind. He didn’t understand it, but it was what it was. If she were here, if Sybil were here, this wouldn’t be happening. He recalled those words he had said to Matthew before his and Mary’s wedding: <em>You’ll never be happy with anyone else as long as she walks the earth.</em> And now, now that Sybil no longer walked the earth, he found himself wishing he could be with the last two people on Earth that he should be wanting and couldn’t seem to make up his mind which of them he preferred... as if it would make a difference. They were married and loved one another wholeheartedly, there was no room for him in their lives other than to serve as a friend. He wouldn’t ever want to disrupt their lives further than he already had.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tears ran down his face. He was grateful neither Mary nor Sybbie were here to see him like this. “Why did you have to leave me?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. the smiles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Matthew was beyond pleased when Tom and Mary returned from their walk to the cemetery, laughing and smiling. It was so wonderful to see them happy again. They had been so tortured and miserable, it hadn’t been fair.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things were not rosy for long. Another month went by where Matthew found Mary drying her eyes as she left their bathroom. “I’ll be fine,” she promised him. “I will.” Still, it was hard to think that when she looked so wretchedly sad wherever she went. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though Dr. Ryder had affirmed nothing was wrong with either him or Mary, Matthew still felt like it was his fault somehow. He wished he could give her a child, yet month after month they were disappointed. Seeing her like this only made him gloomy and it was hard to remain optimistic when his reassurances to her never came true. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom noticed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is something the matter with Mary?” Tom asked as he showed off his new office space. It had been used for storage for some time now but Tom was making it his own. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew sighed. He wanted to dismiss it and logically he knew that he oughtn’t tell Tom but at the same time the weight of this burden wore heavily on him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know how we’ve been trying for a baby for some time now...” He trailed of. Discussing such matters wasn’t something he was used to. He reminded himself that this was Tom and that he could be honest. “We’ve still been unsuccessful. It’s rather disheartening after a while.” He managed a self deprecating smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom stood by him, motionless. Then one hand reached out, clapping Matthew’s arm... and lingered. Matthew let out a silent gasp. He was aware of each of Tom’s fingers, right above layers of clothing and his skin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It takes a long time for some people.” Tom paused. “It took my parents two years before they finally had my brother Kieran. Then it took them a few more before they had my sister.” He hesitated. “Have you seen a doctor? Some kind of specialist?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Matthew laughed humorlessly. Then, thinking of the encounter in Dr. Ryder’s office, “We both have.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And nothing’s wrong?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He doesn’t think so and he’s one of the best, I’m afraid. So I have no explanation.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was silent again. “Well, I am sorry.” His hand left Matthew’s arm. He wished he hadn’t pulled it away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I feel like a worthless husband. I can’t seem to give her the one thing she wants, or what the rest of the family wants, for that matter,” he ground out. It was nice to say these words at long last when he had been bottling them up for so long. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t think about them,” Tom said. He leaned against his desk. “And I think you should be more glad to be a husband who can’t give his wife a baby than one who did and watched her die because of it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly Matthew’s problems weren’t so big anymore. “That’s not what happened,” he said seriously. Then, “Don’t tell me you think that.” It wasn’t asked in anger, merely horror and hoping this was a sick joke Tom was playing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the long pause said it all. “Sometimes,” admitted Tom. He wasn’t looking at Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was still standing close by Matthew’s side. He wanted to reach out and take his hand, to comfort him. It was what he would do if it were Mary.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">But this isn’t Mary. This is Tom. And you can’t bloody well hold his hand.</span> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hoped words would be enough of comfort. He wasn’t sure they would be but it was better than nothing. “What happened to Sybil was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know that. I do.” He sighed. “But sometimes, I wonder if it might have been better if I had just left her alone. If she hadn’t run off with me.” Tom’s hands slid into his pockets. “Then maybe she’d still be alive.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then maybe she’d still be alive and living a life that made her miserable,” Matthew said. “She didn’t care about all this. If she had stayed, she would have been stuck. Chances are she might have been married off to someone else and the same tragedy might have befallen her.” Truthfully, there were too many possibilities to narrow it down to a single certainty. “All I know is that while her life was far too short, Sybil didn’t have any regrets about the way she did things. I remember when Mary returned from your wedding, she told me that Sybil had never looked so happy in her whole life. And that was because of you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom smiled sadly. Matthew knew he must be full of memories. “Maybe so, but I have regrets.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew figured he was thinking of the fire that had brought him to Downton. “Well, regardless of any mistakes you made, I’m glad it brought you here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A slow smile crossed Tom’s face and Matthew didn’t have the words to describe how happy he was to see it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anna finished plaiting her hair for the evening when Matthew entered the room. “Will that be all, milady?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. Thank you, Anna.” She rose to her feet, lower back aching as she did so. There was little to be done about that, though; she’d already taken medicine for the pain that had tormented her all day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Joining Matthew in the bed, Mary slipped underneath the covers. He pulled her close to him without her even needing to ask. She sighed, both exhausted and contented. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a few minutes of blissful silence and Matthew playing with her hair, Matthew spoke. “I’ve been thinking.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Given the long pause, Mary realized he was waiting for her to prompt him into continuing. “About what?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“About our great matter.” Mary didn’t understand what he was quite getting at until he said, “Darling, I love you very much. It hurts me month after month to see you so disappointed.” Mary was confused until he said, “I think we ought to stop trying. For a baby.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary squirmed our of his grasp so she could face him. “What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing drastic,” assured Matthew, nowhere near as tense as Mary presently was. He took one of her hands in his own. “Only that we stop making it out our goal every time. We carry on as usual but we won’t be actively trying. It might the pressure off of us and maybe it will happen.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary wasn’t sure if it worked like that but she didn’t contradict him. She was disappointed after months and months of trying to be optimistic for much longer. She let her shoulders relax and settled next to Matthew again. “Alright.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiled. The sight made the ache in her heart less intense “I do love you,” he told her, soft and gentle, “so terribly much.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary silenced him with a long kiss, letting it do all the talking for her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A nightmare had disturbed him from slumber on this still morning. Tom leapt out of bed, grabbing his robe. He needed to see Sybbie right now, make sure she was safe.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He burst into the nursery, startling the occupant in the rocking chair. It took him a moment or two to realize it was Mary, not Nanny, holding Sybbie on her lap. “Goodness! You gave me a fright!” Mary laughed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Some of Tom’s urgency faded away. Sybbie was well, she was with Mary. “Where’s Nanny?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gone to fetch the laundry,” said Mary, gazing down at his daughter. “I told her I could watch her.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom hated to disturb the tranquility, especially since Sybbie seemed to be in good spirits, but he was rather impatient. He had to see for himself that she was alright. “May I hold her?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Certainly.” Mary’s eyes widened before she passed Sybbie to him. Sybbie gurgled, one hand in her mouth. “You don’t need to ask, Tom. She is your daughter.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom chuckled, more at ease now that Sybbie was in his arms. She was so precious, like a little angel. “I thought it would be rude to yank her from your arms all the same.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary smiled sadly. Tom turned his attentions back to Sybbie. She was breathing, she was safe, she was alright. She squirmed in his arms. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until she saw the flash of pale blue from Mary’s robe that he realized she was already at the door. “Where are you going?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want to intrude.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You aren’t.” He took her place in the rocking chair, arranging Sybbie just so. “Stay. Please.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary hesitated, reluctantly returning to the room. She sat by the window seat, drawing her robe close to her. It was only just now Tom full comprehended that she was still in her nightclothes, the same as him. Now that his thoughts were less frantic, he was allowed to take her in fully. She seemed tired, dark circles under her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But she was still beautiful. Tom wished so badly that he could view her as a sister but it was made impossible. If Sybil had been around longer, if the Crawleys had welcomed him in sooner, perhaps he might have been able to make that association. She didn’t remind him of Sybil at all; they barely even resembled one another.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you for watching her,” Tom said at last, breaking the uneasy silence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It isn’t a problem. I rather enjoy it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom studied her carefully. The love in her eyes when she looked at Sybbie was evident, as was her own sadness. He wondered if was hard, trying for a child and living with one that wasn’t her own, reminded of what she didn’t have yet. It was a shame; Mary was a good aunt to Sybbie and knew she would make a wonderful mother someday. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was why he said, “She’s lucky to have you. We both are.” He looked down at Sybbie before saying, “It’s going to be hard for her, growing up without a mother. There are things I don’t understand about raising a girl. I hope you won’t mind if I ask you for help.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not at all.” He was pleased to see her beaming. “But are you sure you don’t want poor old Edith’s help?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t funny but Tom laughed anyway. “<em>Poor old Edith</em> as you so lovingly call her won’t be here forever. Things are quite serious between her and Mr. Gregson, I think. But I’ll know I can count on you to always be there for her.” As long as they remained at Downton, they would always have Mary to rely on... <em>And Matthew</em>, he added.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The smile he was rewarded with was priceless. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. the housemaid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Robert, Cora, and Edith all went away to London for a few days; Edith to meet with her editor, and Robert and Cora at the invitation of Rosamund to see some play that was all the rage. The three of them had been invited, but they had all declined out of necessity to the estate.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The morning after the others departed, Matthew left his and Mary’s bed for breakfast with Tom. He liked the company of Robert and Edith but he had to admit there was something nice about having Downton just for the three of them. It felt rather natural. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was stunned when, upon arriving to the dining room, he found a blonde maid standing close to Tom, Sybbie in her arms and speaking to him lowly. When neither of them seemed to notice his presence, that was when Matthew cleared his throat and asked, “What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom turned his head around. “Sybbie’s had a rough morning,” he explained, a bit sadly. “Nanny thinks it might be a tummy ache. She’s not ready to leave me quite yet. I was going to send her back to nursery—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew hesitated. “Well, theres no reason she can’t stay here with us, is there? Surely there’s a high chair or something?” He turned to the maid. “I’m so sorry but what is your name?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, don’t feel badly, sir,” said the maid. “I’ve only just been hired on. My name’s Edna.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew felt less like a snob now. “Right. Edna, will you please have Miss Sybbie’s high chair fetched from the nursery? Have one of the footmen do it, and if Carson puts up a fuss, say it was at my request.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Edna’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she eased Sybbie back into Tom’s arms. Matthew almost missed the hand that came to rest and rub Tom’s shoulder before she left the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Almost. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Poor Sybbie,” Matthew mused, looking at his dear niece, who seemed much happier to be in Tom’s arms. It took him a moment to choose his words. “That maid, Edna... she seems awfully friendly.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, she is,” said Tom with a smile. Matthew wasn’t sure if Tom understood his meaning... or if possibly Tom didn’t mind in the slightest. Either way, it bothered him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’s that new maid getting on?” asked Mary, as she readied herself for bed. Anna had mentioned there was a new arrival at Downton a few days ago. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anna was quiet. Before Mary could inquire if something was wrong, she said, “I don’t know, milady. She— she said something strange at dinner.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did she? Well, I’m all ears.” She began rubbing lotion on her hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She said something about Mr. Branson. About how he was—“ She hesitated, not wanting to say it before managing to say, “—good looking.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary blinked. “Well, she’s not wrong there,” she said, so stunned that she spoke without thinking. When Anna gave her a surprised look, Mary defended herself by saying, “Well, it was the first reason why I could think of why Sybil would run away with him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t a lie. Mary wasn’t immune to the fact Tom was a dashing man and when she had seen her sister spending so much time with their chauffeur, she had been convinced it was because she had a crush on a handsome man who shared her interests. The idea Sybil might have been in love was an impossible one for her to contemplate at the time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was Anna’s turn to be perplexed. “Mr. Branson has always had many virtues,” she said diplomatically. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. But surely it isn’t Edna’s place to comment on them, and certainly not in the servant’s hall.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anna broke out into a wide grin. “You know, when you say things like that, you sound just like Mr. Carson.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary chuckled but arched an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Anna finished braiding her hair for the night. “Mrs. Hughes already ticked her off for speaking out of turn.” She was quiet before adding, “But I think she fancies him. I overheard her telling Lily that she wished he would join us for dinner while Lord and Lady Grantham were away.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was lucky Anna was finished with her hair because she jerked her head suddenly. “Did she really?” She couldn’t stop the severity from creeping in. The idea angered her for some perverse reason that she couldn’t begin to explain. It went deeper than having Tom’s place in the family challenged; did this mere maid somehow think she could lure Tom away from them?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m afraid she did. I wouldn’t have troubled you with it—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only you’re afraid she might try something?” finished Mary. When her maid nodded, Mary said, “I’m glad you did tell me. Now I may adequately warn Mr. Branson.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Very good, milady.” Judging by the tension that eased from Anna’s shoulders, this was the outcome she had been hoping for. Mary dismissed her as Matthew rejoined her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead of greeting her husband with her usual smile, Mary stood. “Has Tom gone to bed?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I think so. We came up together. Why do you ask?” Matthew was frowning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I must speak with him. It won’t be a moment.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t it wait until the morning?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know.” When Matthew’s eyebrows shot up, Mary sighed. “Anna’s told me that she thinks a maid might make unwanted overtures.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Edna?” guessed Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now it was Mary’s to arch her eyebrows. “You know?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I noticed she was awfully friendly with him this morning.” There was a darkness in her husband’s voice that wasn’t normally present. “I suppose you must tell him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary nodded. She took a moment to kiss Matthew’s cheek. “I won’t be long,” she repeated before brushing past him and going to the hallway.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been a long day and Tom was glad it was coming to an end. He and Matthew had accomplished a lot of work today and stayed up late. Once he was alone on the safety of his room, Tom began undressing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It struck him as funny, in a perverse way, that despite his best efforts, he was slowly becoming more like the Crawleys. While they hadn’t forced him into white tie just yet, he resembled them more than the man he had once been upon arriving. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When his shirt was off, Tom stilled. What would Sybil think of him now? Would she be pleased that he and her family actually got on or would she no longer recognize the man who had convinced her to run away with him? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a knock on his door. “Come in,” he said without thinking. It was likely Matthew, having remembered something he wished to discuss, or possibly Thomas, who Mr. Carson sent up on a whim to check up on him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t either of them. It was Edna, the new maid. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. Branson,” she began, wearing a hopeful smile. “I wanted to thank you for being so kind to me—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. He liked Edna; she had been very nice to him since she had come to Downton. Unlike everyone else, she didn’t gloss over the fact he had once been a servant. Still, even he wasn’t certain this was quite appropriate. She was putting reputation at risk by stepping foot in this room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Tom soon realized that was the least of her worries when she leaned forward, kissing him. He couldn’t move a muscle, eyes open, and in disbelief. He had to stop this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Mary stopped it for him when she threw open his door. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. the arguement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The sound of shouting caused Matthew to jolt out of bed. He threw open the bedroom door, realizing quickly that the voices belonged to his wife and Tom. Confused and worried, Matthew ran down the hallway.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Clues as to what the argument was about began making itself known. Before he could even make out any coherent words, Matthew ran into that blonde maid— Edna, he remembered— in the hallway. “Sorry,” he said as they connected. She was weeping, hiding her face in her hands. Matthew stared after her even after she disappeared around corner, another muffled sob echoing after her. It wasn’t until he heard Tom yelling again that he returned to reality. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Soon, he was able to piece words together— such “<em>no right</em>” and “<em>harlot</em>”— neither of which boded well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“—stay out of my affairs! I never once asked you get involved, and I sure as hell won’t in the future!” Tom standing in his doorway, looking very much like the fellow who used to dine with them over a year ago instead of their Tom. He wore an undershirt with his trousers, a mismatched sight that disoriented Matthew. He was too distracted to interrupt the heated argument. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Affairs</em>? As in, plural? Well, you’ve certainly kept busy, haven’t you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s going on here?” interjected Matthew, thinking now might be the best time to intercede. Knowing them and their temperaments, things could only grow more acrimonious from here on out. “I could hear you both from the other side of the house!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll tell you what’s happened,” began Tom, ire not dissipating. “Mary decided to barge into my room, without knocking—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And caught the housemaid trying to seduce him,” finished Mary, in a tone she normally saved for the likes of Edith. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew’s stomach dropped. Seduce? He looked at Tom, mouth open in disbelief. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t know that,” Tom said, eyes locked into Matthew’s before turning back to her. “You jumped to conclusions and stuck your nose in where it didn’t belong!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My apologies. Next time you wish to engage in a liaison with some housemaid, then be my guest. I won’t stop her next time, as you clearly had no intentions of preventing it from happening!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I had the situation under control— and you didn’t have to be so rude to her! She’s been perfectly nice—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’s a social climbing tart who is trying to use you to get in with the family!” Mary interrupted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was one blessed moment of silence. “Social climber? Is that what you think of me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Tom, don’t be stupid!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t insult my intelligence!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tom, I’m sure she didn’t mean—“ Matthew began, words drowned out by Mary. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You loved Sybil. That was different. You don’t even know Edna, so don’t sit there and try to tell me it’s <em>love</em> or something like that, not when she can’t possibly fill Sybil’s shoes—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t!” Tom burst out suddenly, as if her words had caused a sharp pain. “Don’t say her name!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can and I will! She was my sister, in case you’ve forgotten! Just because you loved her doesn’t mean you have the monopoly on being able to speak about her!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew knew this would get ugly soon. Sybil was a point of contention and they would only say things they would regret come morning. “That’s enough! From both of you! Mary, go to our room! I will sort this out!” exclaimed Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary looked at him as if he had slapped her. Already he regretted his harsh, commanding tone, wishing he hadn’t sounded so authoritative. “Don’t bother. I’ve already told her she will be sacked without a reference, so there’s little to do,” she said brusquely. She pushed past him, knocking shoulders. “And good luck if you hope to get anywhere with him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew watched after her helplessly, knowing he had damaged things with her. He turned back to Tom, whose anger hadn’t lessened any. “Look,” began Matthew, more than a little scattered, “I won’t pretend I know what all this is about—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” interrupted Tom. “You don’t.” He was colder than Matthew ever remembered seeing him, except perhaps during some of his face-offs against Robert in those early days before he had been fully accepted.He tried to ignore the pain he felt knowing it was directed at him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me ask you this: did you invite her or not?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom glared at him. “No. I did not.” He straightened his shoulders. “We kissed. That’s all.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew felt a weight lift off his chest, though why, he could not say. “I see.” He blinked. “Why did Mary, then—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was in the middle of undressing. Edna came in to see me and then she kissed me.” Matthew noticed this time that he was shifting more of the blame onto Edna. “Then Mary—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think I understand now,” Matthew said hastily. He hesitated. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I agree with Mary on at least one score. She must go.” Tom said nothing, glowering at the floor. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Hughes about providing her with a good reference so that she can find herself a good job elsewhere, but I think working on this house is a bad idea.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why? When it’s my fault for leading her on?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you figure that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t discourage her.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But you didn’t encourage it, either. You said yourself that she wasn’t here at your invitation.” When Tom didn’t look up, Matthew sighed. “I’ll go down to see Mrs. Hughes. I’ll see to this. Try and get some rest.” He didn’t stay behind to see if Tom intended on following his advice. Matthew simply walked down the hallway.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary laid in bed, back facing the door, tears stuck to her eyelashes. Her heart felt like it had been split in two— in more ways than one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sight was burned behind her eyelids. Tom, shirtless and far more handsome than she would have dared imagine, eyes closed and kissing that maid. The words she had meaning to say died in her throat as a horrible realization hit her right in the chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first thing she felt was jealousy. Seeing Edna in the place where she had been a few months ago woke something primal within her. The urge to disrupt it in a physical matter was all too enticing, but Mary had simply stood by until they broke apart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom had been horrified. Edna had been smug. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary snapped. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opened. “I’ve spoke with Mrs. Hughes and informed her of the situation at hand. Edna will be leaving in the morning.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary didn’t turn around to face her husband. While the shock of finding Tom in an embrace of some housemaid had stung, moreso was that of Matthew ordering her to their bedroom like an errant child. She didn’t feel like looking at him right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you inform her of the <em>full</em> situation?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t tell her what happened. I just said that it would be best if she found work elsewhere.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She can’t work in service again.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t agree.“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wouldn’t. You haven’t grown up in our sort of life. You don’t understand.“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would like you to sleep in your dressing room tonight.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a long pause. She half wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have said it. They had never slept apart, not since marrying. She had never exiled him from their bed. “Mary, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. I was trying to stop you and Tom from screaming the house down and I know it’s no excuse for my behavior.“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. It’s not.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stood there a moment longer before she heard his feet shuffling against the carpet and a door opening and closing. Mary blinked back her remaining tears, sat up, and pulled her robe around her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Edna was in the servant’s hall, engrossed in some task when Mary came downstairs, oblivious to her presence. Mrs. Hughes was already in her office. “Lady Mary! What a surprise!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mrs. Hughes, I understand Mr. Crawley has come down to discuss the termination of Edna’s employment here?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her smile faltered. She sighed, sinking down in her chair as Mary lowered herself down. “That he has.” After a best, she said, “I won’t ask why. I have a feeling I already know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you plan to give her a good reference, when she applies to another house?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve nothing to the contrary to say. I noticed some inappropriate behavior but nothing to warrant not providing her with one. She’s been a hard worker otherwise.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then I must insist that I provide with all the pertinent facts.” Mary folded her hands on the desk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mrs. Hughes nodded, eyes wide. Mary opened her mouth and began speaking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was dawn when Tom awoke in his bedroom. The whole night came back to him all at once. He groaned. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew said he would handle it. Tom wasn’t sure it was wise but he had been too tired and worn out to argue with him. He was still too tired now but Tom felt he must do something. Edna had to go; of that, he was certain the three of them were of an equal mind. But as for a reference...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom hurried down the servant’s stairwell, nearly bumping into Thomas as he did so. “Sorry,” he said over his shoulder before scrambling down the stairs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the bottom of the steps, Mrs. Hughes was standing with Mr. Carson, speaking with him lowly. “Mrs. Hughes,” he said, succeeding in getting her attention, “May I have a word with you in your office?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mrs. Hughes managed a small smile. “Very well.” She exchanged a look with Mr. Carson before leading him there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is about Edna, I take it?” She asked as Tom closed the door behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Has she gone?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She left first thing this morning. She packed her bags last night.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. It must have been wretched, her whole life hanging in a balance like that. “And she’s to receive a good reference?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mrs. Hughes hesitated. “I can’t do that, Mr. Branson. Not in good conscience.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nodded. “So he told you then?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You mean Mr. Crawley?” When he affirmed it with a nod, she shook her head. “No. It was Lady Mary.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course it was.” It was like the anger from last night had never left him, rushing back all at once. “She had no right to do that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve every right to feel that way. I might have handled things differently had the—“ Mrs. Hughes pauses, searching for the right word before deciding upon, “—information been presented to me in a different manner, but I am glad she told me the situation.” She sighed. “In truth, I was dubious about keeping Edna on, even before this came to light.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mrs. Hughes hesitated. “I heard her speaking to you. From time to time. About how you weren’t one of them.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I’m not,” Tom chuckled humorlessly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe not, but you aren’t one of us anymore, either.” She paused. “May I speak plainly, Mr. Branson?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course.” It would be a relief, to have her speak to him as an equal once again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve managed a delicate transition remarkably well. I’m very proud of how well you’ve done. Truly. You went through something no one should when they are so young and in the process you gained a family. A group of people who love you and your daughter very much.” Tom absorbed her words. “When Lady Mary came down last night, I could tell the only reason she had bothered was out of a love for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom jerked his head up. Just for a moment, he had misinterpreted her words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Try not to be too hard on her, when it’s one of the most unselfish things I’ve ever seen from her,” Mrs. Hughes concluded, wearing a warm smile. “And keep in mind I’ve known Lady Mary since she was eleven years old.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom blinked but nodded, mouth dry. When he went to the staircase, he felt numb. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. the epiphany</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">He awoke when he felt his mattress sink. Matthew’s eyelashes fluttered open when Mary eased herself into the bed behind him. It was a tight squeeze, given the small size of the bed. Matthew rolled over to face her, breathless when he saw her, half convinced she must be a dream. </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But she moved closer to him. “I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew shook his head. “<em>I’m</em> sorry. I never should have spoken to you like that.” He paused. “Could you ever forgive me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve already been forgiven.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a lump in his throat. He didn’t deserve her... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shifted to accommodate her in the bed, pulling her on top of him. They fit together well, as if they had been made for one another. Still, something felt incomplete, even as her head was tucked beneath his chin. He held her like that until they both fell asleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He woke again a few hours later, sunlight now streaming in through the single window. Mary was half on her side, half on top of him. Before he could check and see if she was awake, her eyes opened and she kissed him. He kissed her back enthusiastically. He loved waking up like this.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But that wasn’t all Mary had in mind. Soon she was climbing on top of him, unbuttoning his pajama shirt as she did. Desire shot through him and once she had completed her goal, Matthew was lifting her nightgown up and over her head. When their eyes locked again, their lips met for yet another kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sweat had gathered on his brow. Mary kissed it anyway, tasting the salt on her lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His breath was shaky. “That was—“ He couldn’t seem to bring himself to finish it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was,” agreed Mary. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They laid together some time longed before Matthew reluctantly said something about getting up for breakfast. “Molesley and Anna will be wondering why we aren’t up yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Molesley and Anna are wise enough to mind their business when they are seeing to a couple of newlyweds,” said Mary, though she crawled out of his bed, searching for the nightgown. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew’s eyes lingered on her appreciatively. “Are we still newlyweds, then? Even though we’ve been married for over a year now?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we just proved we are as good as,” Mary said wryly, before bending down to pick up her wrinkled nightgown and throw it over her head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It is different now, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” Mary froze, afraid to hear his next words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew smiled, beckoning her towards the bed. Mary went forth, holding his outstretched hand. “I love you more now than I ever have before,” he said, gazing at her with the utmost adoration. “And when we wake up tomorrow, I’ll love you more than I do today.” He brought her hands to his lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary felt that love he spoke of, too. She loved everything about him, from his smiles to his frowns. She loved those little noises he made as he slept and his hand in hers and the way his pillow smelled of him. It only multiplied as time went on. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But to tell him so would have felt utterly dishonest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anymore talk like that and you’ll be making me untidy again,” Mary teased. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew chuckled. “<em>Good</em>.” Still, he released her hand. “I wouldn’t object but I really must get a start on the day. Left to our own devices, I imagine we could spend hours together.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary managed another smile before kissing him goodbye, leaving him to dress. Once she turned her back to him, the smile faded. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Door closed behind her, Mary leaned against the door. Hearing all his words of love reminded her just how unworthy she was of him and of it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t that Mary did not love him. In fact, it was the opposite: Mary loved Matthew more than she had ever loved anyone. For years, it had only ever been him for her. Even when she was engaged to Richard Carlisle, her love, her devotion, her loyalty, all of it had been Matthew’s. She desired him still, wanted his child so badly...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But she loved Tom as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How was it possible for her to love two men at once, let alone Tom of all people? Nevertheless, Mary could no longer pretend it wasn’t true. She had found herself drawn to him for quite some time now and after the incident last night, she was unable to pretend her attraction to him was a figment of her imagination. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he would never know. He couldn’t. And nor would anyone else. Mary would take this to the grave. She could never dream of hurting her husband more than she already had. Matthew might have been willing to forgive her lapse in the spring but he certainly wouldn’t tolerate her being in love with Tom. The last things she wanted to do was force Tom to go and have his friendship ruined with Matthew. No; it would remain a secret, forever and always. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One good thing had come from her fight with Tom last night: he was angry with her. His caustic remarks, though they stung, were a certainty that he didn’t feel the same way. There would be no danger of anything happening. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was glad. A traitorous part of her despaired the idea of never having a chance at knowing what it was like, to shower him with her love, but it was a good thing. Matthew was still her husband and the man she loved. He still made her happy and she didn’t regret marrying him in the slightest. He was hers and she was his. And that was better than most people were afforded. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The anger had faded away after Tom had given himself more time to think but Tom suspected Mary was still displeased with him. She had avoided him almost the whole day, hardly even looking at him during luncheon. She was effortlessly polite and never mentioned their fight but Tom could tell she was still bothered. It was all the more reason to apologize. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, resolving this came simpler than the last time an uncomfortable situation had haunted them. He found her in the library before dinner, inspecting some papers on her father’s desk. A half full glass of cognac sat next to it. When she heard him enter the room, she lifted her head up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mary,” he addressed her, smiling to let her know there were no harsh feelings. “I’m glad to have caught you alone.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary ducked her head back down. “I can’t imagine why.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I owe you an apology. I was rude to you last night. I know now that you were only trying to help me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She sighed. “I didn’t handle myself much better. I shouldn’t have called her names.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. No, you shouldn’t have. But I shouldn’t have spoken to you as I did.” He took a few steps closer to her. “I spoke to Mrs. Hughes and—“ Tom stopped himself, wondering why he was telling her this. He tried to remember the words he had planned. “I need you to know that Edna wasn’t my lover. There’s been no one for me, not since Sybil. She was far too important to me to just cast aside.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That caused Mary to lift her head. “You don’t need to tell me this, Tom. Really. I know how important Sybil was to you. I’m sure no one else could ever compare to her.” The sadness in her voice was a reflection of the pain he felt when he remembered she was gone. “And even if you were, it was none of my business. You were right to tell me off for interfering.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom shook his head. “I was rude. I’d prefer if you knocked next time but I don’t blame you for being upset. You’re my friend and I know you were concerned by what you saw.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She wore an odd expression on her face. Before Tom could ask what it was about, the door swung open. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Matthew said as Tom turned around to see who it was. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not at all,” Mary replied. “And don’t worry— you won’t have to force us on another walk to settle things. We worked it out on our own this time.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew laughed, relieved. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it,” he said, coming to stand next to Tom. He was it such close proximity that if Tom were to turn a few more degrees, their arms would brush against one another’s. “Because I was half convinced I’d need to lock you in this room until you had it out so I could be guaranteed a peaceful meal.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom chuckled but when his eyes fell on Mary that strange expression was there again. She reached for her drink, swallowing it and Tom tried to put it out of mind. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. the divide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">She claimed nothing was wrong and even on a surface level Matthew could see it wasn’t. Robert, Cora, and Edith never realized a fight had taken place when they returned home. Only Robert was enlightened on hearing that a maid had been dismissed so that he would be prepared when he learned they were searching for a new one, but Matthew didn’t delve into detail. He trusted Mrs. Hughes knew to be discreet, for Tom’s sake.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But something between Mary and Tom wasn’t quite right. They talked regularly to one another another and there was no animosity lingering but Matthew could see it: Mary was avoiding Tom. Whenever he was meant to be taking her to things along the estate, Mary would either concoct an excuse to get out of it or drag Matthew along. He didn’t mind but it only made him aware of the distance between him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When asked, Mary insisted nothing was the matter. “I’m not mad. We’ve talked things over and all is well now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew believed her. She wasn’t acting as though she was particularly upset with him. Whenever they spoke, she was all smiles and laughing before abruptly dismissing herself from Tom’s company or growing silent and almost ignoring him at the dinner table, just as she was tonight. They were across the table, now picking at their meals. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Matthew?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned his head, finding Mother looking at him expectantly. He now realized someone had been speaking to him. “Sorry. I must have gotten lost in my thoughts.” It was an explanation Mother had heard a million times before and he knew it wouldn’t sound suspicious at all. “What were you saying?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Edith</em> had a question for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew turned to his sister-in-law, who was simultaneously embarrassed and annoyed. “I’m writing an article. About how we served as a convalescent home. Since you were a soldier who stayed here, I wanted to ask you a few questions about it. You don’t have to if you aren’t interested.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course I am interested.” Edith’s burgeoning career in journalism was something Matthew admired a great deal. He was proud of her, for finding something to do with herself after Anthony Strallan had publicly humiliated her. “I’m more than happy to help.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Edith asked him her questions after dinner, which served as quite a distraction, but not nearly enough for him to not notice the way Mary stood with Tom, sipping her drink and smiling before excusing herself and flitting over to her mother.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was easy to let her control slip in his company. They would talk to one another, about unimportant things, and Mary would forget herself. She laughed harder at his jokes that she ought and smiled too often in his company. It was halfway through she would remember and excuse herself from his company. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The problem wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with Tom; the problem was that she wanted to spend <em>more</em> time with Tom. Mary didn’t even know how it was possible for her to be in love with him. She had known him for many years now but he had never been anything more than the chauffeur before he and Sybil were running off to get married. It was only recently that her feelings for him warmed. Besides, she loved Matthew for years and years. How was it that in the span of roughly a year that Tom had went from a brother-in-law that she must begrudgingly accept to someone she was in love with?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that was another thing. Sybil. How could she be in love with Sybil’s husband? It made no sense and every time Mary was reminded that he had once been Sybil’s, her stomach turned and she felt disgusted with herself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Matthew. Her dear husband. That was the most confusing part of all. Mary understood how many people could be discontent in their marriages and how men and women could be tempted towards someone they were not married to. In fact, during her engagements to Patrick and Richard, Mary was convinced she would one day uncover an affair. Mama and Papa’s love for one another was rare amongst their kind of people. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Mary still loved Matthew, just as much, if not more, than she always had. Her attraction, desire, and love for him had never waned for even a single second. Matthew hadn’t done anything to alter her feelings one bit. So how was it that she now found herself in love with Tom as well? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a question that tormented Mary throughout her days and nights, only disappearing when she went to sleep at night. Sometimes she wasn’t even safe then. She had been visited by dreams of Tom— walking hand in hand as they walked throughout the estate, trading kisses, painting a picture of a domestic life not all that dissimilar to hers and Matthew’s. Other times, they were of a more sordid variety, of things she daren’t speak of to another soul. Regardless of the content of her dreams, they followed her about in waking life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t to say Matthew didn’t still feature in her dreams. He was there, just as she always had been, as lovely and wonderful as ever. When she woke up of mornings after dreaming of no one but him, she would smile upon his sleeping face, half convinced that she was fabricating any feelings involving Tom, only disappointed when she went downstairs and saw him, suddenly reminded by her traitorous mind of all the things she loved about him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then there were the nightmares. Mary counted herself lucky that after her indiscretion with Tom, Matthew had been generous enough to forgive them. It didn’t matter to her unconscious mind; she was plagued by nightmares of them brawling, attacking one another while she screamed at them to stop, horrified by the scene unfolding. Thank God she didn’t cry out in her sleep, else Matthew might have known she was troubled. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary tried to stay away from Tom. She was resolved to keep a healthy distance until whatever this was faded away. When she couldn’t do that, she made sure Matthew was with them, a reminder of how lucky she was to have him and how she couldn’t risk losing him. After the war and all the hell they had been through together, Mary refused to give him up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As for Tom, Mary knew he didn’t feel the same. He wasn’t ready to move on yet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She tried to tell herself that was a good thing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to check on the sheep. Do you care to join me?” Tom offered. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary turned towards him, looking up from her book with a smile. “Certainly,” she agreed readily, closing her book. He was relieved until she asked, “Is Matthew coming along?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom felt a little disheartened. She usually didn’t agree to come along unless Matthew was these days. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Matthew as well, he had missed his walks alone with Mary. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s gone into Thirsk. So it’ll be just you and me.” His mouth went dry suddenly. Why had he said that?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The smile vanished from Mary’s face but still stood. Some of the unease faded. Tom let himself be lulled into security until they reached the front door when Mary suddenly said, “Oh, damn.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is it?” asked Tom warily. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mama asked me to help her with something this afternoon. I’m dreadfully sorry but I am afraid I’ll have to stay behind after all.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom wanted to believe she was telling the truth, but he knew Mary too well by now. There was that strained politeness, a stiff smile that only ever seemed to present itself when she was lying or upset. “If I asked your mother, would she tell me the same thing?” He asked. When her smile froze, eyes widening, he couldn’t help but scoff, “That’s what I thought.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her smile went away. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be lied to.” Mary was looking down at the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was surprised by the hurt he felt yet. “If you don’t want to spend time with me, you can just say so.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not that at all.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then what is it?” he demanded. He felt as if he was slowly being driven out of his mind. When she didn’t respond, a spiteful thought found its way to the tip of his tongue. “I’m not going to kiss you again, if that’s what this is about.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wished he hadn’t said it. Not only was it stupid and thoughtless but it reawakened memories that Tom had dismissed months ago. Mary’s head jerked up, eyes meeting his with a blazing intensity. “Don’t worry, Tom. I know that,” she said, tone caustic and cold, a sharp contrast from the fire in her eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then what is it?” He was almost begging, which he hated, but he was so desperate for an answer. “What’ve I done wrong?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing! Has it occurred to you that the problem is with me?” Mary looked stunned, as if she hadn’t meant to say anything. That was further reinforced by Mary turning on one heel and walking away from him. Tom stood motionless. He didn’t try to stop her. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. buttons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Tom showed Matthew the newly renovated cottages on a sweltering summer afternoon. Matthew was glad to have a chance to look things over himself with his own eyes but he wished they’d taken the car. The walk back would leave them both covered in sweat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Perhaps that was why, when he saw glittering waters as they passed the pond, he turned to Tom and said, “How long’s it been since you last went swimming?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom wore a strange expression but grinned as he shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t remember.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew nodded to the pond. “Why don’t we?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t exactly bring a bathing suit.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I didn’t, either,” Matthew told him with a laugh. “Surely that doesn’t matter, though.” There was a challenge in his voice, one Matthew hadn’t even realized was there until he began speaking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom held his gaze before breaking it. “Oh, what the hell. Why not?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew grinned, clapping Tom’s back before advancing towards the pond. His heart rate had accelerated, palms growing a little sweaty though perhaps that was because of the heat. He’d already removed his tie by the time they reached the water’s edge. The jacket lay beside it as he started undoing his vest. He looked over to Tom, who was already staring to undo the buttons on his shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew’s fingers stilled. There was a patch of exposed skin peeking that he had never been privy to and even more with each button undone. Then Tom’s hands stopped. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew finally let his gaze move back up to Tom’s face and found the other man was staring back at him. Matthew managed a smile before working on his own buttons again, averting his eyes away. <em>Well</em>, he thought, heart beating faster in his chest, <em>That explains some things</em>. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea... </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Matthew wasn’t about to turn back now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Goodness!” Mary exclaimed louder than she meant to as she left the library. Both her husband and Tom had returned from their estate things, hair wet and clothes damp, sticking to their bodies in an awkward way. “What happened to you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew was sheepish as he said, “We went swimming this afternoon. In the pond.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary, who had gone to give her husband a kiss, drew back. “I can tell,” she said, wrinkling her nose. The stench was most unappealing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry,” he said, looking almost too adorable for words. “It was my idea.” Mary was sorely wishing he hadn’t come up with it; she wanted to kiss his cheek right now but knew she couldn’t handle the smell. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">However... perhaps it wasn’t a wholly stupid idea. She hadn’t been allowing herself to look at Tom for the duration of this conversation but now what she had, she noticed his tie was undone and one line button remain unbuttoned. It was silly how distracting these things could be and yet Mary’s eyes were drawn like magnets to that exposed skin. It reminded her of the night with Edna: or, rather, how breathless she had been upon seeing his bare chest. It occurred to her then that Matthew had spent all afternoon in his company while Tom was in a state of undress, no doubt unappreciative and unaware of how fortunate he was...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Common sense seemed to return, reminding her that her gaze had lingered far too long. Prying her eyes away from Tom, she forced a smile to her face to say, “The two of you had best hurry upstairs and take your baths if you want to be presentable when Carson rings the gong.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re probably right,” Matthew said, glancing over his shoulder at Tom. “We’d best get along, then.” She stepped back to let them walk past. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until they were halfway up the stairs that it occurred to Mary that Tom hadn’t spoken a word... nor had he even looked at her. His gaze had always been trained elsewhere. That pain radiated deep and she closed her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>Tom was relieved to finally be granted a chance alone in his room. All afternoon, the tension had been building up inside him. When Matthew suggested a swim, Tom naively thought of boyhood days at his grandfather’s farm with his brothers and cousins. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him he would be undressing next to Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, Tom was careful and respectful, averting eyes and staring at the bark of a tree. When they leapt into the water of the pond, it was cool enough to tame him. He wouldn’t let his eyes linger too long on Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then there was Mary, who barely looked at him, but was so unspeakably lovely all the same. He stood there in the hall as she greeted Matthew, mentally pleading with her to look at him. Eventually he had given up all hope. For whatever reason, she wanted nothing to do with him. Despite this, there was a part of himself that yearned for her more than ever. It was as if the further away she was from him the more he wanted her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom worked his shirt off for the second time that afternoon, fingers frantic. He felt the button go before it bounced on the floor. “Damn,” he muttered. He bent over, picking it up. He was no good at sewing; he’d have to ask Barrow. With a frustrated groan, Tom lifted the shirt off his head and let it fall to the floor in a heap. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. the office</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It didn’t occur to him until he caught his breath that he hadn’t spoken yet. “Good morning,” he said, more to the white ceiling than to his wife.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mm. It is a good morning, isn’t it?” agreed Mary. He felt her lips on his neck again.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew nearly groaned. “Don’t tempt me,” he nearly pleaded beneath her, already feeling her fingertips skimming lower again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t tell me you’re tiring of me already?” Mary lifted up her head as she sat upright. Her beautiful dark hair was still in its braid, in spite of his own hand’s attempts to undo it not twenty minutes prior. Though her question was mostly a playful one, Matthew could hear an unspoken fear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Never.” His hand reached up to cradle her cheek. Every day he was still in awe that he could call her his, that she loved him, that she wanted him... though she had been making that last bit known on an almost daily basis, waking him up each morning and letting her need be known. He wasn’t displeased by it but he couldn’t help but worry if there was some underlying reason behind it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mary,” he began, hesitant and confident more than a few feathers would be ruffled before they were through. “I can’t help but notice you’ve been a little—“ He stopped. “What I mean to say is—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“You seem more... </span> <span class="s2">amorous</span> <span class="s1">, lately,” admitted Matthew. “Are you trying to see if we can have a baby?”</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was frowning. That didn’t bode well. He was already cursing himself for not wording it more carefully. Matthew braced himself for a negative reaction. “I wouldn’t be displeased if we did.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nor would I,” he added with haste. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you not want me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, of course I do! I always want you.” He recalled her telling him the same thing once, albeit in a more innocent context. It was hard to believe that they spent so many years loving each other from afar when they could have had this. Matthew would never dream of giving any of this up willingly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then what is the problem?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s no problem.” He reached for her hand. “No problem at all. I was only wondering.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew wished he hadn’t said anything. Mary was still frowning. He shouldn’t have mentioned babies, not when it was a sore spot still. He merely brought her hand to his lips, kissing her palm with the utmost affection, before releasing it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary stared at the tray of food, wondering here to even begin. She hadn’t any appetite this morning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She felt like an adulteress. She hadn’t been unfaithful to Matthew, not since that lapse with Tom all those months ago, but she felt like one in her heart. She felt like she was on fire anytime she caught him so much as glancing at her, mind full to the brim with things she couldn’t speak of. All that tension would build up throughout the day, to say nothing of her desire already for Matthew, and she found herself impatient to see to her needs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was embarrassed that Matthew had noticed. She thought she had been careful, that he would think nothing of it. What else had he seen? Could he see the way she looked at Tom?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last thing she wanted was to lose him— to lose either of them. But the further she pushed Tom away, the more likely it seemed she would drive him away. She missed him, even though she saw him every single day, but it just wasn’t the same. Not like how it used to be. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The truth was that since Matthew proposed putting a hold on it, Mary had become less preoccupied with trying to provide Downton its heir— even though she did endure comments from time to time from her parents regarding the matter. Nevertheless, any occasional, hurtful remark did not hold the same sting since she had realized the depth of her feelings for Tom. She had become to concentrated on juggling her warring affections for Matthew and Tom to spend more than few wistful moments envisioning a baby for her and Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary wished she had lied and told him she was. Maybe a good fight would have distracted her enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was worried there would come a time where life would become unbearable for the three of them, all because of her stupid feelings. Already she was miserable without Tom and his confrontation was any indication, he too was discontent. If any tension erupted between him and Matthew... well, then it would be all over and Matthew would be left with a heartbroken wife who would be forced to swallow it back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was relieved when she heard the soft, familiar sound of Anna knocking at the door. Mary stared down at her full tray only to realize she hadn’t eaten a bite. She let out a sigh before calling Anna in, wondering if she could formulate a lie quick enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The office was completed and Tom was eager for the chance to show it off. He didn’t bother extending an invitation to Mary, even though Matthew was joining him. He still didn’t know what to make of her statement of their divide being something wrong with her. She was unlikely to provide him an answer, anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I say, Tom, are you sure this is the same place you showed me all those months ago?” Matthew studied the map of Yorkshire Tom had painstakingly pinned to the wall as a reference. “It’s almost unrecognizable.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom smiled at his words, ignoring the burst of warmth within his chest. “I’ve been doing plenty of work on it.” He hesitated. “You know, there’s enough room for another desk in here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” Matthew turned around. “And what would you do with that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was wishing he hadn’t said anything. “I was thinking maybe you’d like a space of your own,” he said, now embarrassed. “You use Robert’s desk up at the house, but if you wanted...” He trailed off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew smiled. It was brilliant and blinding, just like the sun. “I’d like that. You won’t tire of me invading your space? This is your office, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Tom said, aware that Matthew had taken several steps towards him. They were now mere inches apart. Perhaps that was why Tom spoke in a whisper as he told Matthew. “No, I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew said nothing. Tom didn’t know what to think or say, only keenly aware something had changed between them just now. Had he given himself away? Was Matthew somehow aware of how he felt? He wasn’t sure what was happening or why he felt as he did when all his thoughts were drowned out by Matthew moving even closer to him. Tom kept his eyes open to make sure it was real as Matthew kissed him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. the revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It was a firm, unyielding kiss, so different from the ones he’d exchanged with Mary. Tom’s lips were softer than he had imagined they’d be— and, to his surprise, he realized he <em>had</em> imagined this before, in fleeting moments he had made himself forget.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Needing to savor this moment, he reached out, desperate to touch any part of Tom. His fingertips brushed against the other man’s cheek, smooth and soft after his morning shave. It had been a mistake, for the moment was shattered as Tom jolted away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” choked out Tom. He backed up and moving towards the office door. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew knew he should apologize too, for reaching out to take that step, but he forced himself to stay quiet, for the one thought on his mind was: <em>I’m not.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew watched silently as Tom jerked open the door and practically fled the office, leaving him alone. He mumbled curses to himself. Matthew wished he could have at least said something to make him stay but his mind was two steps behind him, muddled and confused. What had just happened?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After several minutes of sitting in silence in Tom’s office, Matthew finally left. But he had no intention of returning to the house. He kept going until he found himself in the village, approaching his mother’s doorstep. He hesitated before knocking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The greeting Mother gave him was an enthusiastic one. Matthew allowed himself to be fussed over and served tea and biscuits, answering all of her questions with a smile that belied none of the turbulent thoughts on his mind. It wasn’t until after Mother inquired after Mary that he felt that clenching guilt replace the shock. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’s well,” he replied, staring into his milky tea. “I had something I wanted to ask you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. Do you still have Father’s medical textbooks? I wanted to have a look through them.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A wistful look appeared on her face. “They should be in the study. They’ll be in the closet, though.” She gave him a smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew smiled back, setting down his teacup. His hands shook only slightly. “Thank you. Do you mind if I—?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not at all. Your father would be pleased to know you are taking an interest in his things.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew managed another smile before dismissing himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He located the specific book in one of the many boxes, thumbing through it. He was familiar with this book; he had discovered it when he was thirteen, a bored child trying to pass the afternoon by. Naturally, with a title referring to human sexuality, he had been intrigued. He remembered the sense of awe he felt upon learning his own feelings and attractions weren’t solely a phenomenon unique to him. Though he had accepted himself long ago, Matthew hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone else. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, he suspected, he would need to. Having a brush up on the terminology might help him explain himself better to his wife. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was in the middle of writing a letter when the bedroom door opened. “You’re back,” she said with a smile as Matthew walked into the room. “How was it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew said nothing, trudging in. He closed the door behind him. His reticence made Mary worried, fear creeping into her veins like ice. “What is it?” she demanded as he sat on their bed, giving her a rueful look. “What’s wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew remained silent but patted the empty spot beside him. Mary frowned but crossed the room to sit next to her husband. “Matthew,” she murmured, hoping to prompt him into speaking. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His blue eyes met hers and Mary could see all the emotions he was trying hide from her. She took his hand, grip tight. She was about to implore him once again to speak as he said, “I kissed Tom.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Her grasp slackened, not out of disgust but out of shock. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I kissed Tom.” His fingers clung almost desperately to hers as he averted his eyes down to their linked hands. “I’m in love with him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my God,” breathed Mary, stunned. Out of all the words she had ever expected to hear her husband say, these were never the ones she envisioned. What did this mean? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I need you to know that, Mary.” He was desperate, sounding as if he was pleading with her. “I love you. I still love you. I always will. But if you feel you cannot love me any longer, I’ll accept your decision—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mary cut him off. Though there seemed to be half a million things she was uncertain about, her love for Matthew wasn’t one. If he said he still loved her then she believed him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “For kissing him. I never should have, not when I’m with you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure I deserve it,” she said quietly, think of her own kiss with Tom. And that’s when it hit her: the men she loved had kissed one another. “And what does Tom think of all this?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. We didn’t really talk about it much before he ran off.” He swallowed. “Mary, please— Don’t be upset with him.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not.” And she wasn’t. Perhaps she should be; when Matthew had been with Lavinia, she hated watching them together. Each kiss she witnessed was a dagger driven into her heart. But right now, anger was the furthest thing from her mind. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary shook her head, somewhat exasperated but a little more in love with her husband now than she had been a few seconds before. “Matthew, I love him, too.” She watched the meaning of her words dawn on him as his mouth fell open. Reaching out, her hand settled on his cheek and a slow smile spread across his face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you really?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She nodded and Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “Look at the pair of us.” She couldn’t resist grinning. Love had never been simple for them before all this, so why should it start now?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are we to do?” Matthew finally said once his laughter died down, the seriousness of the situation impressed fully upon them both. She wasn’t sure what any of this meant or what was supposed to come next. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t we can decide much of anything without him.” Then, recalling how things had gone the first time around, Mary said, “We need to talk to him right now. He’s likely in quite a state.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right.” Matthew hesitated before saying, “Perhaps it’s best you handle this. He was rather shaken up. I don’t know if he wants to see me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary nodded, already rising to her feet. “I’ll bring him to our sitting room. Meet us there,” she said, confident no one would disturb them. She leaned down to kiss Matthew once before leaving to find her other love.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom had been battling the tears since he had begun packing. He couldn’t believe it had happened: he had kissed Matthew. It was better than he could have dreamed it but Tom knew it had been a mistake. How was Matthew going to forgive him? How would Mary? She already hated him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wasn’t sure if he would even bother to leave a note. What could he possibly say? He didn’t even know where he was going, though perhaps that was best. If the police—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stopped himself. Matthew wouldn’t do that, would be? Considering how kind he had always been, Tom couldn’t bear to believe Matthew would have him sent to prison and ripped away from Sybbie. Still, Tom supposed plenty of other men in his shoes might assume the same. Perhaps it was his own affection for Matthew painting a sunnier picture. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was a knock at the door. Tom stilled. “Who is it?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opened and Mary pushed in. Of course she wouldn’t reveal herself. As least she had knocked this time. “I wanted—“ The words died in her throat as she spied the open suitcase on his bed and the open drawers. “Oh, Tom, what are you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What does it look like?” He turned away from her. The tears were already forming again but he had to at least put on a front. “I’m leaving.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But you can’t!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I need to.” He wished he didn’t. Tom wished he had minded his own business and left them well enough alone as they deserved. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He worked on gathering up the last of his clothes, ready to add them to the suitcase when he felt something connect with his back. Mary’s arms wrapped around his front as she hugged him from behind. He drew in a deep breath. No one had embraced him like this, not since Sybil’s death. And here was Mary, solid and warm, holding him. He didn’t want her to let go. It made the pain ache all the more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stay. Please.” The words were spoken against his shoulder blade, her lips brushing against the fabric of his suit. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom’s hands found hers, prying them off his midsection so he could turn around and face her. He was too selfish to let go completely, knowing this would be his last chance to touch Mary before he left her forever. He studied her dark eyebrows, her lips, and those brown eyes. They would haunt him. “If you knew why I was going, you wouldn’t be asking me that.” He dropped her hands and his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But soon he was staring into her eyes once again, her hands holding onto either side of his head as she forced him to look at her. “I know everything.” Tom was speechless as her thumb stroked his cheekbone. “And I— and Matthew— want you to stay. We <em>need</em> you to stay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom knew he ought to ask why but he was hypnotized by her proximity. When her hands dropped, he mourned her touch until she was reaching out to take his wrist. “Come with me,” she said. Tom let her tug him out of the room, mind singularly on the thumb pressed against his pulse point. He knew in that moment he would follow her anywhere. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. the conversation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The sitting room was a space rarely occupied by himself and Mary, which meant that Matthew felt out of sorts as he entered it. After much deliberation, he chose to sit in one of the two chairs facing the fireplace. He began asking himself if perhaps he ought to chose a different seat so that he could face Tom and Mary once they arrived but soon he heard the door swing open.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew leapt to his feet at once, angling himself towards them. Mary was placid as ever whereas Tom looked stunned. When his eyes locked with Matthew’s, he knew they were thinking about the same thing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please have a seat anywhere you like, Tom,” said Mary, releasing his hand to close the door behind her. For good measure, she locked it. Tom eyed the empty seat next to Matthew before moving to the chair closer to the fireplace. Matthew sincerely hoped it was because he was feeling uncertain rather than uncomfortable around Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can I ask what is going on here?” Tom asked, breaking the silence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew looked over to Mary, who seemed much more certain of things than he was. He didn’t know how much Tom knew or what Mary might have told him. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that between the three of us we’ve weaved a very complicated web,” Mary said to him. “We need to know how you feel about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom seemed uncertain. “I don’t know exactly what you’re asking.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew decided to be the one to face it head on. “Tom, I won’t pretend I know what it’s been like for you but I do know you loved Sybil a great deal. Anyone who saw the two of you together could see that. I hope that anyone who has seen Mary and I together could say the same.” He took his a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing, “But I’ve known for some time now that there was something different about me. That I was attracted to men as well as women.” Tom’s eyes widened. Matthew’s heart quickened. He wanted to stop here, having admitted far more to these two in this moment than he had to anyone else but he made himself say, “But I never fell in love with a man until you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence was deafening. He couldn’t look away from Tom, evaluating every microexpression until he finally spoke. “You mean it isn’t just me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The relief Matthew felt was palpable. “You’re not alone in this.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom seemed to visibly lighten. “Are there others like us, then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes. Yes, there is.” He gave Tom an encouraging smile. He knew this didn’t necessarily mean anything, that Tom’s affections could lie elsewhere, but if he played a part in making this wonderful man feel less alone, he would be very glad indeed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom let out a soft laugh. “I thought it must just be me. I’d never heard of anyone else.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew smiled encouragingly at him. “It’s quite fascinating, actually. And it isn’t confined solely to men. There’s plenty of women who feel the same way.” He was about to continue before remembering that this wasn’t the reason Tom was here. “And just because we are the same in this way, I understand it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I don’t want you to think that because of this you must feel as though you— I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” admitted Matthew. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom put him out of his misery by saying, “If you’re trying to ask me if I feel the same way about you, then the answer is yes. And I have for a long time.” He sounded a little afraid, but it faded away when their eyes met and Matthew’s heart surged within his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary had simply sat by, observing. It wasn’t like her to hang back but given the delicacy of the situation, she felt she must restrain herself and damn her natural instinct to be at the center of attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was glad for them both; at least there were to be two people made happy today. Nevertheless, Mary was out of her depth. When she had gone to Tom, it had been her apprehension of his leaving driving her to such boldness. But now that they were here, discussing precisely how they felt, Mary had no idea what to do or say. Was she to have a place in all this? She didn’t see how. It didn’t seem possible that three people could all feel the same way.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, Matthew broached the subject. “Of course, there’s Mary as well.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom turned to her. “Is that why you’ve been upset with me, then?” Before she could say anything he asked, “Because of Matthew?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, of course not. I haven’t been upset with you in the slightest, Tom,” insisted Mary. “Like I said, it’s been me.” She stared down at her own lap. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What Mary means to say is that she’s in love with you, too,” explained Matthew. She didn’t have to glance up to know he was smiling with amusement. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary wanted to be upset with her husband for voicing her feelings for her but in truth she wasn’t certain if she could bring herself to say it. She couldn’t bear to know what his rejection would feel like if she laid it all out for him herself. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Tom, too worried at what she mind find. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The silence that followed Matthew’s declaration was a short one but it felt like eons to Mary, whose heart began beating erratically. “Oh,” Tom finally said. That didn’t bode well. She tried to gather herself, so she might comport herself with as much grace as possible in the sting of inevitable rejection. Tom, however, had other ideas as he added, “Well, I love you, too.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary looked up, hardly daring to believe it. It wasn’t like her to be so insecure but these were uncharted waters she— no, <em>they</em>— were treading. “Do you really?” she asked, needing to know he wasn’t just saying it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom merely smiled back at her, eyes twinkling. “I’ve felt as if I were going mad for months trying to figure out how I felt when it comes to the two of you. But I’m certain of it now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary couldn’t stop herself from smiling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Tom could hardly believe the revelations of the afternoon. They loved him, Mary and Matthew both. They loved him. It didn’t seem possible and yet it was. They had both assured him of it plenty of times, both verbally and nonverbally.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom could see it now, it those looks they gave them, those looks that he gave to them. Before he left them, they had each kissed him, smiles matching the excitement Tom felt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He hadn’t put a label to the emotion in his mind until he heard Matthew say it: </span> <span class="s2">love. </span> <span class="s1">Once he heard it, it made perfect sense. What else could it be?</span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Tom felt better when Mary admitted that she too had no idea on how to proceed forward. “Plenty of married couples like us—“ (And by <em>like us</em></span> <span class="s2">, </span> <span class="s1">he knew she was referring to aristocracy, which therefore did not include himself), “—conduct affairs but this isn’t the same thing.” </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew was only one demonstrating some sort of authority. “Why can’t we just do whatever feels right for us? If something doesn’t work, then we’ll talk it over and renegotiate things.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was very much in accordance to his profession as a solicitor but Matthew proposed they create some basic rules— “We won’t write them down,” he said hurriedly, stealing a glance towards Tom— for them to agree upon. Amongst the three of them, they were able to agree that their unusual relationship was to be kept secret, that it would only ever be the three of them, and that they would always be honest with one another. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a strange arrangement, Tom would admit, one that he never thought he would be in. It had never occurred to him in his mind that either Matthew or Mary would want him, never mind <em>both</em> of them. Even then, had Tom allowed himself such a possibility, it wouldn’t have occurred to him that he wouldn’t have to choose. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But as unconventional as it was, Tom was hopeful they would all be happy with it. It was better than the alternative, which was a circle of pining after one another. Tom wasn’t a man confined to tradition and convention in the first place. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The only reservation he had was Sybil. “I can’t just forget about her,” he told them. Even now, even though he knew she wouldn’t resent him trying to find happiness, whomever it was, in some ways it felt too soon to seek it out. “And I never will.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We wouldn’t ask that of you,” answered Mary immediately. “You loved her very much.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiled, grateful she understood. “Would you mind terribly if we took things slowly?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can go as slow as you like, Tom. In fact, we’ll let you set the pace,” decided Matthew. “You tell us whenever you are ready and what you are ready for.” He smiled wryly before stealing a glance at Mary. “I suppose the one nice thing about keeping this a secret is that we won’t have to put up with any prying or giving their opinions on how we should be doing things. It will be ours and nobody else’s.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><em> <span class="s1">Ours</span></em><span class="s2">. </span> <span class="s1">Tom liked the sound of that. </span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. the real beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Matthew awoke, as he did every morning, beside his lovely wife. He kissed her awake before reluctantly climbing out of bed to dress. If Molesley noticed he was in a chipper mood, he didn’t say anything.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom was already at the table with Robert, discussing the plans for Yew Tree Farm. He abruptly paused when Matthew entered the room, gaze lingering a bit too long, before turning back to Robert as if nothing had ever happened. Matthew knew he ought to feel concerned but he highly doubted Robert would ever pick up on such a thing. He loved him like another father but he was terribly oblivious even at the best of times. Besides, he rather liked knowing that his mere presence could distract Tom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But what he liked even more was when he offered to join Tom to the farm before setting off to work. “I’d like to see how the pigs are getting on,” was his explanation for Robert, even though the pigs were the last thing on his mind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked in a tense silence in the direction of the farms, neither of them speaking or acting. It wasn’t until Matthew was completely confident that they were alone that he suddenly grabbed Tom’s hand, practically dragging him into the wooded area, and seized him by the lapels to kiss him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew drew away after a moment or so, remembering that Tom had wanted to take things slowly. Was this too intense? Would he be displeased?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All his fears were dispelled when Tom simply smiled at him. “Well good morning to you, too,” he said with good humor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes... it is a good morning, isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was writing a letter to a cousin when Matthew came to wish her goodbye before he set off to the office to work. “Tom’s down in the office,” he said quietly after he broke off his farewell kiss, only though it was just them in their bedroom. “If you want to go see him.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary <em>did</em> want to see him. It was almost indecent how quickly she readied herself. Nonetheless, it was hardly as if anyone would object. To anyone else, Mary was taking an interest in the estate and visiting her brother-in-law. No one else knew what he really meant to her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She found him hunched over a desk when she entered the office. When he jumped up with surprise, she belatedly realized she had forgotten to knock. That seemed to be a habit. “I don’t mean to disturb you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You aren’t disturbing me.” Tom smiled as he sat down his pen. “I’m glad you’re here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary allowed herself a smile before stepping in. “I haven’t seen it since you set this up,” she noted. Last time she had been in the office, it was vacant, cobwebs in the corner and dust on the floors. “This is quite nice.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you. I’ve worked hard on it,” Tom said, looking around his domain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can tell. Well done, Tom.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The look he gave her was a shy one, as if they hadn’t confessed their love to one another the day before. “I’ve missed having you help me,” he admitted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her heart thumped in her chest. “I’ve missed it, too. For more reasons than one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom held her gaze. “Yes. Me too.” He swallowed before glancing down. “I’m just glad to know I hadn’t done anything wrong. I thought you hated me for a while.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary’s heart ached. “Not at all. Far from it. I hope you know that.” Without thinking, her fingers reached out across his desk to brush against his own. She cursed herself immediately. How had she forgotten her promise so soon to take things slowly with him? He said he wasn’t exactly ready—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But that train of thought was disrupted as his other hand went to cover hers. Tom wore an oddly contemplative expression before looking up at her again. “I do now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary hovered behind him as he explained his and Matthew’s latest plans for the estate. Matthew had kept her informed, she explained, but it wasn’t the same as seeing it and working on it herself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ll have to get you your own desk in here,” Tom said without thinking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A desk?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom tilted his head up to look at her. “I said something to Matthew about how he could put a desk in here. To give him a place to work outside of the house.” He paused before adding, “I’d say there’s room for a third, if you want one. It can be a place for the three of us. Something that’s ours.” He liked being able to say that: <em>ours</em>. It made it all the more real.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary seemed perplexed. “Do you really want me to?” Strangely enough, she seemed hesitant... which wasn’t like Mary at all. Come to think of it, she had been apprehensive all morning, tip toeing about things. The most contact they had was hand holding. Oddly enough, despite his reservations about progressing too quickly, Tom was eager for more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary’s lips turned upward for a smile. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but what would I do here? I don’t have a say in running things. Not an official one.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would you like one?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary blinked, as if she hadn’t considered it before. “I would. Very much.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom grinned. “Alright, then. That settles it. You can work alongside me as an agent.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A slow smile spread across her lips. “But I don’t know the first thing about being an agent.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you think I did, when I started out?” Tom grinned. “I’ll teach you. Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, alright. You’ve convinced me.” Her hands folded in front of her. “Though where am I to work, until we get a desk?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Impulse had Tom reaching for her waist and pulling her into his lap. Mary squealed as she was tugged down, though she let out a laugh. “Is this comfortable enough for you?” Tom teased. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary wrapped her arms around his neck. “Very. This is quite daring, you know,” she said lowly yet appreciatively. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve always been something of a risk taker.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hummed appreciatively before saying, “You know, it’s so comfortable that perhaps I won’t want my own desk. Perhaps I’ll just stay right here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s fine by me,” Tom teased. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. darling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="u">
    <strong>
      <em>september</em>
    </strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary leaned over Tom, examining the reports on his desk. One hand rested on his shoulder, the other stretched out on the desk. Tom was pointing to some figures, describing what they meant to her. Matthew was supposed to going over work as well, but found himself far more interested in them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His idea to incorporate Mary into the running of the estate had been an ingenious one. Matthew was ashamed it hadn’t been his own. He had tried to keep her up to date on the changes being made, but the idea of making her an agent along with Tom had never occurred to him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robert had put up a fight but with the three of them as a united front he hadn’t stood a chance. Since the announcement, Tom had been educating Mary on everything there was to know about the estate and she had poured herself into it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew was rather pleased with the arrangement for more reason that one. For a start, it was wonderful to watch his wife coming into a more modern role. He wondered how he could have ever been convinced she would have ever been content hanging back and occasionally offering him advice, especially when she seemed to blossom under Tom’s tutelage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Secondly (and an infinitely more selfish reason), he appreciated that the three of them were granted more time alone with each another. It was a space that was truly theirs; thus far, they had nothing else like it it. The sitting room he and Mary had was seldom occupied by them and it was a long walk from Tom’s room. Things had not progressed to the point where Tom was comfortable with sharing a bed with either of them yet, so the office was the only place they were guaranteed alone time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Matthew?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He returned to reality. Both Mary and Tom were looking at him, amused. “Penny for your thoughts?” asked Tom. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t waste your money, Tom. Not when I can tell you exactly what he was thinking for free.” Mary was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, insinuation perfectly clear. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew was sure the blush on Tom’s face mirrored his own. He didn’t want Tom thinking his thoughts were in the gutter, lest the other man feel pressured to move along too quickly. “Can you blame me for being a little distracted, when I’ve the two most beautiful people on Earth in front of me?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flatterer,” said Mary, though she looked pleased. Tom smiled as well, albeit a bit more shyly. He found himself distracted by them once more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How was tea?” asked Tom politely as Mary entered the office. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A nightmare,” she groaned. She should have known Granny would side with Papa on the matter of her being an agent but it still stung. She felt like a child being scolded for getting her dress muddy as Granny went on and on about the home being a proper place for a woman. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not your fault.” She took a seat at her own desk, looking for a certain document from yesterday that she had been making a study on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want to talk about it?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary glanced up. “No. But you are a darling for asking.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom didn’t seem satisfied by her response. “Is there anything I can do?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary was about to decline but had a better idea. “Kiss me?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That I can do.” Tom crossed the room and succeeded in driving her cares away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom glanced down at his watch. 10:15. He frowned, turning towards Matthew who was writing something down on a piece of paper. “Weren’t you going into Ripon today?” He asked. While Matthew had started devoting more time to the running of the estate, he still went into work at the practice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew looked up at him, before glancing down at his own watch. “Oh, damn!” He jumped to his feet, gathering up his belongings. “I completely forgot!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom regretted not checking the time sooner. Still, he was glad he had thought to do so, at any rate. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew was running about the office like a chicken with his head cut off. “Goodbye darling,” he said hastily, running over to kiss Tom’s forehead. “I’ll see you later.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling?” Tom said aloud. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew stopped in his tracks. “Did I say that? I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t apologize,” said Tom, not bothering to hide his grin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure how masculine it is... I’m so used to calling Mary—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t mind,” Tom said, noting the wrinkle in his forehead. It was nice, knowing that already he was equal to Mary in his mind, especially since they were not linked by the bonds of matrimony. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew relaxed. “I’ll see you later,” he said again, smile forming. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright. Goodbye, then, darling.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. the locket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em> <b> <span class="u">october</span> </b> </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do I look?” asked Tom, turning around. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Very handsome,” Matthew informed him, soaking in the sight of him in white tie. It was rather foreign to see Tom in such formal attire, but he knew it would be well worth it. “But then again, you always are.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had been hesitant to broach the idea, uncertain how receptive Tom would be to it. He had only thought it might be nice, for Mary’s birthday, to give her a gift from the both of them and this one in particular had stuck out. Tom had responded enthusiastically to the idea initially but now that the time had come, Matthew could see he was quite nervous. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t look ridiculous?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course not. Far from it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I feel ridiculous.” Tom turned around, facing the mirror again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew shook his head. “Not at all. She’ll love it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom’s eyes were focused on the bowtie once more. Matthew had a feeling he knew what he was thinking. “Don’t feel like you’re wearing it means this is something you must do regularly. Mary loves you just as you are. I thought it might be a rare sort of treat. Just for her.” Matthew paused, wondering if maybe he said the wrong thing when Tom failed to respond. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. If you want to wear something else, I’m know she’ll—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom shook his head. “No. You’re right.” He turned around. “And it’s only for a picture, after all,” he said, more to himself than to Matthew. “But I’m not about to show up to dinners dressed like this anytime soon.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew smiled. “Good.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her birthday was special for more reasons than one this year. It wasn’t every day that one turned thirty years old; she knew some women bemoaned the passage of time and lamented that they were one step closer to the grave, but Mary enjoyed celebrating her birthday. She was always guaranteed to be center of attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her family was wonderful, of course. Mary opened up several lovely gifts, like a brooch from Mama and Papa and a smart new typewriter from Granny (which was her way of saying that she now approved of Mary’s new role as agent). The earrings Edith picked out for her weren’t exactly to her style, but they would work for a few outfits, so Mary thanked her. Besides, on a day like today, it was hard to put her in a bad mood. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the best gift came later, after everyone else had gone to bed. Once it was just three of them left, Matthew told Carson that they could pour their own drinks and thus ensured their privacy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’ve one more gift for you,” he said, joining her and Tom on the sofa, where they now sat much closer to one another than they had earlier in the evening. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Another gift?” They has already given her some very nice presents earlier in the evening. Everyone had <em>oohed</em> and <em>ahhed</em> over the beautiful bracelet Matthew had presented her with, Papa even remarking how it must have set him back significantly. The gloves Tom had given her were much less romantic, albeit more practical. Mary had vowed to treasure them always, just as much as the bracelet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This one is from both of us,” said Matthew with a grin, inching closer to her on the sofa. She was wedged between them now and she didn’t dislike it. Not at all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom began rummaging in the pockets of his dinner jacket before procuring a black velvet box. “Open it,” Matthew said, eager. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A smile played on her lips. She opened it , revealing a gold locket. “Oh, how lovely,” she said, holding it up. The flames from the fireplace danced across the metallic surface. There was a floral design on it, along with what looked like some diamonds. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Open it up,” Matthew urged yet again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary obliged, gasping when she looked inside. On the right side was a photograph of Matthew, hair slicked back and looking more serious than normal, but nevertheless handsome. On the left was one of Tom, looking very debonair... and in white tie, of all things. Though he wasn’t smiling, she could still see the glimmer of mirth in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my,” she breathed, glancing back and forth between the both of them. “How handsome you both look!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We wanted you to have a part of us with you, no matter where you went,” explained Tom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary kissed him, hand running along the side of his smooth cheek before she did the same to Matthew. “Thank you. I love it.” <em>Just as I love the both of you. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They took advantage of the privacy afforded to them in the drawing room. Mary leaned against Tom, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his fingers brushing against Matthew’s shoulder. It was nice, Tom mused, to simply be with the two people he loved. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But soon that peace had to come to an end. It was late; Matthew yawned, which reminded them he was due at the office in morning, and they collectively realized it was time for bed. They exchanged kisses with Tom there before they vacated the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The three of them walked up together, Mary’s arm linked with Matthew’s as she stood between them, yet close enough their hands brushed together. Tom knew it was on purpose. He wished he could reach out and take it but knew perfectly well one of the servants could see should they happen to step into the hall and restrained himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Goodnight, Tom,” said Matthew as they reached the top of the steps. “Sleep well.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You too,” he replied back, wishing he could say more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary released herself of Matthew’s hold. He wasn’t exactly shocked by the kiss on his cheek, but he felt his cheeks grow warm when she whispered, “Goodnight, Tom. Thank you for giving me a wonderful birthday.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. Happy birthday, Mary,” he told her sincerely. <em>I love you,</em> he thought, hoping the look in his eyes could convey his point enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was hard parting ways with them, so halfway down the hall, Tom stopped to turn just in time to watch them round the corner, heading to their room. Tom stood there for a moment before resuming his walk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until he was tucked under his covers that he registered how lonely he felt. The cold emptiness in his bed was a stark contrast from the fullness and warmth he felt with Matthew and Mary earlier in the evening. What he wouldn’t give to be able to share a bed with someone again, to be able to wake up in the night and gaze lovingly upon someone who meant the world to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom knew that if he were to climb out of the bed and walk to their room, Matthew and Mary would gladly let him. But as much as he wanted to, Tom knew he wasn’t ready. Not quite yet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he had a feeling it was soon. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. patience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>november</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew awoke to another pair of lips against his, soft and gentle at first, then insistent. He opened up his mouth without much thought, allowing their tongue to access his own. He barely opened up his eyes in order to peer at Mary through his eyelashes before reaching out instinctively to rest a hand on the small of her back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was marvelous, waking up in the same bed as his wife. He could hardly believe it was almost two years now that he had been allowed this particular pleasure. Marriage was a truly wonderful thing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Though he couldn’t help but wish it could be expanded to include another. The thought of Tom here with them would have only served to make this moment even more perfect. He hated being apart, hated that it was necessity to keep all of them safe. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had occurred to him to offer Tom the invitation to join them some night— just to sleep and nothing more, until he was ready. It was his own fear of startling him that Matthew held back. The last thing he wanted was for Tom to feel pressured into doing anything he wasn’t comfortable with. He didn’t doubt Tom’s love or fervor for a single moment but what with mourning the loss of a wife he loved very much, it was understandable that he still needed time to heal. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary’s lips left his suddenly. Matthew was taken aback as she stroked his cheek, murmuring, “You seem far away. What were you thinking about?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A smirk pulled at his lips. “I wasn’t very far away,” he told her. “Just down the hall and to the right a ways.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary smiled, knowing the path to Tom’s bedroom, where he was still likely sleeping given the early hours of the morning. “I suppose I can hardly blame you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew nodded. He was glad that he wasn’t alone in his feelings; he felt no ounce of jealousy when it came to sharing his affections, at least not when it came to the two of them. Edna the housemaid had made him envious, perhaps, but he was pleased that the two people he loved above everyone else shared a love for one another as well. It made him feel as though they were complete. “I was only wishing he could be here, to share this with us. That’s all.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her expression softened. “I do, too. But we must be patient with him,” Mary reminded him, her fingers playing with the top button of his pajamas. It wasn’t a sensual gesture so much as an absentminded one. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. We have been, I think. And we continue will be, no matter how long it takes.” Whenever it happened, in some months or years from now, Matthew would welcome it gladly, but he didn’t expect a timeline for this sort of thing. “But I do hate the fact that we get to start off our morning like this while he is on his ownsome.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her lips turned downward into a frown, saddened now. Matthew felt badly, knowing he had spoiled the mood from before. Mary said nothing but lowered herself down, sprawling over Matthew as though he were a giant pillow, her head tucked just beneath his chin. He held her close. It just did not seem quite fair, to revel in this when one of them wasn’t here as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">It won’t always be like this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the thought ever present in her mind as she ate her breakfast. Matthew was downstairs, eating his with Tom and Papa. She knew no one would object if she were to join them someday but she didn’t know what excuse she would give for it, since she had always ate her breakfast in bed since marrying. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">It won’t always be like this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Since Matthew had mentioned it, Mary couldn’t get it out of her mind. It was terribly unfair, that her and Matthew should be allowed to enjoy such intimacy and affection in front of everyone. If she were to kiss Matthew or reach for his hand, nobody would raise an eyebrow. However, if Tom were to receive such a gesture from either of them, it would create a stir. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Upon further reflection, she found that wasn’t <em>quite </em>true. As a woman, Mary felt it was easier for her to get away with such things. She did her best to spread out overtly affectionate gestures but no one said a word when she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. It was a friendly, somewhat familial gesture to their eyes. Even Edith and Mama did it on occasion. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew had to be more subtle. Clapping him on the back in a decidedly masculine way, a hand resting on his arm, Mary the only person to observe the slight flex of his fingers. It wasn’t the same luxury she was afforded. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But it wouldn’t be like this forever. She loved her father and she hoped he lived a long life, but one day, Matthew would be master of this house. With him gone, Mama would be bound to move into the Dower House and though things hadn’t worked out with Anthony Strallan, Edith probably wouldn’t be a spinster forever. Matthew spoke about reducing the number of staff already, wanting to live life simpler and she doubted Tom cared to have a large number of servants hovering about him... not to mention the fact it was already difficult to find staff. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This house would be theirs, then, to do with as they pleased and live how they chose. They wouldn’t have to worry nearly so much, they wouldn’t have to part at night if they didn’t want to. It would be perfect, a life free from prying eyes. They just needed to hold on to that knowledge during these trying times. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary‘s hand was on his shoulder. Tom was well aware of it. Five fingers, one with a thick wedding ring, near his neck as she loomed over him to read the paper in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was nothing indecent; in fact, it was quite innocent. Nothing could be more respectable. If Robert were to walk in right now, he wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in regard to their close proximity. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But it felt intimate. She was standing so close to him... if he turned around, he could pull her down onto his lap and kiss her senseless... possibly even more. He allowed himself to imagine pushing up her skirt, removing her hat and pins from her hair so he could run his fingers through it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How interesting. We’ll have to look into that further.” Mary’s hand squeezed his shoulder. Tom’s illicit fantasies stopped dead in its tracks. He felt somewhat embarrassed; he shouldn’t think about this while working. Then again, he supposed, it was hard not to when he worked with the two people he loved.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knew he wasn’t alone in this particular struggle; he often caught Matthew staring at him, hurriedly glancing back down at the papers on his desk when Tom met his eyes with a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, however, he rather empathized. He glanced over to Matthew to commiserate but found was engrossed in his own work. He looked serious, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. He ran one hand through his hair, mussing it up in a handsome way. Tom envisioned doing it himself, his fingers tangling in Matthew’s blond locks, before migrating downward to shed him of his clothing... </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>God</em>, this was torture. The best kind, but torture all the same. Tom forced himself to look back down at the papers in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until after he was dressing himself for bed that it hit him: things could change if he only said the word. He was the one holding all the cards, controlling the reins. They had said as much to him. So what was he waiting for? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom met his own eye in the mirror. Was he ready?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom found his answer looking back at him. He was tired of imposing this distance between them, through with merely wondering what it might be like instead of finding out for himself. He wanted Mary and Matthew and they wanted him. He was going to tell them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a resolve he hadn’t felt in some time, he began readying himself for bed again, hoping it would be one of the last nights he spent alone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. first night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rare check-in from the author! Thank you for all the amazing support, I really wasn’t expecting it when I started this story considering this only second story for this ship! </p><p>I know a lot of people are looking forward to this chapter and I hope it meets your expectations! This is new territory for me and future scenes of this nature probably won’t be more detailed than they are in this one (mainly because I have blushing the whole time). Please let me know if you think it warrants an M rating instead of a T because I don’t know how the ratings here really work</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was rather strange, mused Matthew from the bed, watching his wife prepare herself for another lover. But it wasn’t for just anyone. It was for <em>Tom</em>. Their Tom.</p><p> </p><p>He had broached the topic just yesterday, somewhat abruptly, face flushed the entire time. Matthew felt rather sorry for him; he supposed there was no easy way to bring such a thing up. Their relationship was a unique one with no models for them to base things off of. At any rate, after much deliberation and discussion, it was determined that, to start off with, Mary would go down to Tom’s room alone. He knew Tom felt guilty (and Mary, to a certain extent) but Matthew didn’t take it personally; in fact, he had been the one to encourage it. Neither he nor Tom had been with another man before and taking a new lover was already a big step for Tom; there no sense in overwhelming him further, especially when Matthew could tell he was still so nervous about the idea. It would be best to take it slow rather than rush in and regret it.</p><p> </p><p>Matthew basked in the sight of his wife. Her dark hair was hanging loose in curls. She wore a thin, white cotton nightgown and a dark blue robe which suited her nicely. Matthew watched her rub perfume on her wrists and neck. She was an absolute vision.</p><p> </p><p>“How do I look?” She asked, spinning around.</p><p> </p><p>“Beautiful.” One word alone could not begin to describe her but it was the closest thing he could find to suffice. He beckoned her towards him so he could kiss her. “I’m rather jealous... for more reasons than one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you really?” She sounded nervous. “Because if you are—“</p><p> </p><p>Matthew quieted her with a second kiss. He hoped that was enough to convey his feelings in the matter. As he drew away from her, Mary’s gaze softened, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “It won’t be long now. Please give him time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” promised Matthew. It seemed she had forgotten it was his idea in the first place. As much as he wanted Tom, he was content with what Tom offered him. Even if things never went further, then Matthew would continue to be pleased by being able to kiss him. “I want him to be sure he’s comfortable with all this... but you know how I am when in comes to these things.” He gave her a rakish smile, reminded of all the allusions and innuendo he imparted prior to their wedding night. “I know it will be well worth the wait.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary kissed him for a third time. He savored her, letting his hands travel across her body. Mary deepened the kiss, hands cupping his face before she broke it off. He mourned her touch, but knew it was time.</p><p> </p><p>“I love you,” said Mary, and he heard what she was truly saying: <em>I will still love you after tonight.</em> As if he could possibly have any doubts about that.</p><p> </p><p>“I know. And I love you.” He let her go, a little sad to be left alone but also pleased things were moving forward. She stole another glance at him before stepping out of the room and tiptoeing into the hallway.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Though it was her home and she had every right to roam its halls, Mary felt out of sorts walking to Tom’s room. Suppose she was seen? She kept repeating the excuse the three of them had crafted in such a case: <em>I’m going to see the baby. I’m going to see the baby.</em></p><p> </p><p>She was relieved when she finally came to his door, knocking four times.</p><p> </p><p>“Come in.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary opened the door, stepping into Tom’s room. He was seated on the edge of his bed, dressed in his pajamas. Mary had wondered if he would bother with them or if he would still be dressed in his suit or if he would forgo clothing all together in the interest of saving time. Truth be told, she had spent more time than she ought imagining how this would play out.</p><p> </p><p>He pushed himself off his bed, walking towards her. Mary watched his face closely. His breathing had quickened, a blush creeping up his neck... “You look so beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>Her heart rate accelerated, just as it had when Matthew had told her the same thing. She would never tire of their adoration. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she told him, wanting to reassure him of her attraction towards him. There would be no question of it after tonight; she intended to make sure of that.</p><p>Soon they stood only few inches apart, closing the gap between them by leaning in. Mary let her eyes fall shut as they kissed. The flames that Matthew ignited with his kisses and touches in their room were only fanned by Tom’s lips and hands as pulled her flush against him. Her hands began tugging at his shirt, letting it fall on the floor as her hands roamed his bare skin and start sating her desire for him. She had wanted to do this from the moment she caught him in this very room with that horrid maid, wanting to push her side and make Tom hers.</p><p> </p><p>They tumbled back onto Tom’s bed, the springs squeaking beneath them protest. She straddled his hips on instinct, a soft moan leaving her lips as his hand slid up her thigh underneath her nightgown. It was a heavenly sensation but she still wanted more.</p><p> </p><p>With no warning, Mary gave him another deep kiss before rising up so she was sitting on top of him. The hand on the back of her thigh moved so it was now on her upper thigh, close to the curve of her hips. She began undoing the drawstring of his pajama, eager to feel more of him... and judging by the strain against his trousers, he was eager, too. However, she was stopped by his other hand reaching out and clasping her own.</p><p> </p><p>“Mary,” he began, before softening it with a, “Mary, sweetheart... I do love you. Very much. But I don’t know... That is I’m not quite sure if I’m ready for... all of it. Not just yet.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary nodded, face flushed but not because she was embarrassed. She could see now that they had been right to wait before introducing Matthew as well. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry. You’re the one meant to be setting the pace, not I.” She started to climb off him, but his other hand slid up her hips to pull her back down. It took all her self control to not let out another moan as they connected, especially when she heard the catch in Tom’s breath.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t... I don’t want to stop. Not just yet.” He was contemplative. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” She leaned down for another kiss before moving off of him. She crawled up his bed, letting him rearrange himself so he was on top of her. When their eyes locked again, she reminded him, “You set the pace.”</p><p> </p><p>Tom nodded and wet his lips with his tongue. Mary’s breath hitched in her throat before his lips descended, meeting her neck. Her eyes fell shut as he began pulling off her nightgown.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tom began to stir in the early morning before the sun had even begun to rise. There was an unfamiliar weight pressing on his arm. Tom opened his eyes, finding himself staring back at Mary, who was still asleep.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled. Last night had been beyond his wildest dreams. For a moment, he thought he ruined everything. It had been so long since he had last done this and it felt odd to be in bed with someone who wasn’t his wife. But Mary understood, letting him take control. Though he hadn’t felt comfortable enough yet to achieve his own release, he had ensured Mary did... several times, in fact. That had been more than enough pleasure for him. Tom reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Mary looked so calm in sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, Tom knew he had to wake her. With the hand that was currently not pinned by her body, he began nudging her. “Mary.” She continued to sleep. Trying again, he shook her. “Maaaary,” he repeated. She groaned. “Wake up.” Tom kissed her, remembering he could do that now.</p><p> </p><p>She reciprocated almost immediately. Tongues and teeth came into play as she returned his kisses. By the end of it, they were gasping for air.</p><p> </p><p>“Goodness... I must say that if that’s how you’ll be waking me up, I’ll make sure to spend plenty more evenings here.” She tucked one hand underneath her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Tom chuckled. “I’m glad I’ve made such a favorable impression. My other attempts of waking you didn’t work, so I borrowed a trick from the fairytales.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary smiled yet again, one hand on the back of his neck guiding him to her lips for another long kiss. Tom knew he shouldn’t let this stretch on for too long, but he felt as if he were powerless to her. This was slower than before, less frantic. Nevertheless, he knew they were running out of time, and he forced himself to pull back.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish you didn’t have to leave, but I think it’s time you go,” said Tom wistfully, thumb stroking her cheek. “The servants will be up soon and I don’t want us being caught.”</p><p> </p><p>Mary nodded reluctantly. “It won’t always be like this,” she assured him quietly, her hand reaching up to take his.</p><p> </p><p>“I know that.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. A part of him wished he hadn’t: it made the inevitable parting sting all the more. He wished he could hold her in his arms forever... and Matthew would be here as well. <em>One day,</em> he reminded himself. Hopefully one day soon, when he overcame his own anxieties. “Go on now, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”</p><p> </p><p>A slow smile spread across her lips at the endearment. He could tell she was reluctant to leave and if he could have ensured their secret would remain safe, Tom would called her back to him. Instead, he watched her go, feeling only a little less alone.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. doors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">A routine was soon established over the next couple of weeks. Matthew would bid goodnight to Mary before she left for Tom’s room and would typically wake in the morning to her crawling back into their bed at dawn. Usually, he was too tired to do anything more than pull her closer to him, arms wrapped around her waist. Sometimes she would kiss him and he would return it, before they drifted back to sleep together.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mornings became his time alone with Mary. He treasured those brief few hours when he awoke by her side, pressing kisses along her neck with the implicit knowledge Tom had done the same only hours previous as he roused her from her dreams. She would smile at him, hands seeking him out and tugging aside their bedclothes so they could be one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were no secrets between the three of them and Mary always dutifully informed him of what had transpired the night before. Matthew found the best time ask was in between kisses, for usually instead of merely telling him, she would show him. “Well,” she said, breath shaky and pupils dilated. “First, he put his hand here.” She took Matthew’s hand, guiding from her waist to her hip. “Then I kissed him, just like this.” Mary’s lips went to the corner of his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was this play-by-play, he found, that made their couplings all the more erotic. Being with Mary was heavenly enough but when he closed his eyes and imagined Tom and Mary together, enacting what she described in full detail, Matthew was nearly overcome by it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He suspected, after the first few days in which Mary had gone to Tom’s room, that the latter felt somewhat discomforted. Matthew supposed he couldn’t blame him; the world knew Mary as Matthew’s wife and in some way he must feel like an interloper, her man on the side, especially without Matthew there to share the experience with them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So Matthew went to great lengths to put him at ease and remind him that three of them were involved in all this, not just Tom and Mary. Matthew would be more obvious with his affection in the office, touching Tom more frequently and making sure the kisses lasted longer. Soon, Tom grew less awkward, more confident, and happier than Matthew had seen him in ages. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The others soon noticed. “Cora’s remarked Tom seems to be in a much brighter mood of late,” Robert said one evening as he and Matthew were left alone in the dining room with their cigars and port. Tom had dismissed himself early, thanks to some early errand in Thirsk tomorrow morning. “Do you know why?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suspect he’s found his purpose here,” Matthew answered. Unable to resist, he added, “Mary and I have tried to make him comfortable in his new position as agent. I think he finally feels at home here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, he and Mary do well together. I know I wasn’t supportive at first, of either of them having the job, but I see now I was mistaken.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew couldn’t help but beam, proud of them both. He would be sure to pass that on to Mary this evening, certain she would share it with Tom and knowing it would mean a great deal to them both to have Robert’s approval.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Cora will be disappointed, I fear.” Robert poured more port into his glass. “I believe she thought Tom had his eye set on someone.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really?” Matthew feigned puzzlement, confident she didn’t suspect a thing about them. “With whom?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robert shook his head. “Oh, no one in particular.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, he hasn’t said anything to me about it,” Matthew said seriously. “But I know he still misses Sybil a great deal.” Both of these things were technically true: each member of the family continued to miss Sybil and Tom didn’t have to say anything about romantic interest. He was so plain about his feelings and intentions. Each kiss, each glance, each caress... all of these actions spoke of his love, as clear as the words he spoke. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the mention of his daughter, Robert grew solemn. Matthew almost wondered if he shouldn’t have said anything about it. He only understood it was an advantage when Robert asked, “How goes the business at Harvell and Carter?” which effectively ended all speculation on Tom’s love life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary found herself unusually tense as her and Tom traversed the muddy path back to the office. They had paid a visit to Mrs. Davis, a war widow with five young children’s. She and her husband had been their tenants for some years now. Her younger brother helped her manage the farm following Mr. Davis’s death but she had made several comments during their visit about looking for another husband... each time with her eyes on Tom, who seemed more interested in their cows. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary had no doubts about Tom or his feelings, but she couldn’t deny it made her jealous, just as it had when Edna had kissed him. Tom was hers now, hers and Matthew’s, and she couldn’t help but feel possessive. Nevertheless, she couldn’t very well stake her claim on him in front of Mrs. Davis, as much as she wanted to... though she supposed there was another way to alleviate this strain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll work on those reports we started yesterday,” Tom informed Mary as they entered the office. He didn’t suspect anything amiss until Mary locked the door behind them. “What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ensuring we’ll not be interrupted,” Mary said, seizing him by the lapels as she brought their lips together. Tom melted against her touch, fingertips stroking the nape of her neck. It was a gentle touch, one that sent shivers up her spine but she needed more. Mary knew him to be capable of great passion and that was just what was needed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary’s teeth grazed against his lower lip, drawing out a moan before she maneuvered him against the door she had locked. Mary pressed herself against him so every inch of them was touching before peppering kisses against his jaw. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mary,” Tom gasped when her hands went for the buckle of his trousers, “what are you doing?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mrs. Davis was making eyes at you,” Mary informed him drawing back to meet his gaze. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, she wasn’t—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, she was,” she cut him off. Her hands returned to their task, Tom’s Adam’s apple bobbing in this throat. “But I know you love me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do,” Tom replied immediately, voice scarcely louder than a whisper. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary smiled sedately, a deep contrast to how alive and excited she felt. “So if I asked you to take me against this door, would you do it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom gaped at her. Had she said something wrong? Mary couldn’t help but worry now... but only a second later, Tom beamed and said, “Gladly.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She grinned even wider now, unable to keep up her aloof air, blissfully happy as his hand began lifting her skirt and their lips met once more.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The one fault Tom could find to his newly acquired intimacy with Mary was the fact it was hard to go through a family dinner without thinking about going to bed with her. When Tom glanced at her across the room, his mouth was drawn to her lips as they met her glass of wine, lips that had whispered deliciously sinful things in his ear as they made love against the office door, lips that he would not doubt kiss again tonight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Care for a game of billiards?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom almost jumped at the sound of Matthew’s voice, which was followed by his arm brushing Tom’s as he stood close. He let out a soft chuckle at his being startled by it, returning the smile bestowed upon them. “Why not?” He had feeling they might play billiards for a little while but he doubted it would be the highlight of their sneaking away from the rest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their plans, however, seemed to be thwarted by Robert announcing, “I think I might join you. It’s been a while since I last played.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crushing disappointment never was able to settle on Tom for Mary chose to speak up. “But I need to speak with you about the Davis farm. I’ve a few concerns.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t it wait? And shouldn’t Tom be present for this?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you not think me as capable as Tom?” Mary asked, affronted. He didn’t blame her; since taking up the task, he felt like Mary ran circles around him. She was well suited for the job. “And at any rate, he needs to relax. He’s been working hard lately.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nearly choked, wondering if the double entendre was intentional or not. If that gleam in her eye was any indication it was. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But at any rate, her words seemed to work. “Oh, very well,” sighed Robert. “It seems I’ll have to join you some other time.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What a shame,” Matthew said, sounding perfectly convincing, yet exchanging a meaningful glance with Tom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As soon as they were in the billiards room, their lips were connected, hands reaching out to touch arms, backs, cheeks, anything. Tom backed Matthew against the door before letting his lips move down as close to his neck as possible. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this— What you and Mary—?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom wasn’t surprised. Mary always passed along the information of their nights together to Matthew. She had informed him he specifically liked very <em>immersive</em> retellings... so Tom thought he would oblige him as best he could. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” he whispered. “Only Mary wasn’t wearing this damned collar.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew laughed, hands moving to Tom’s chest so he could put some distance between them, and loosened the buttons. Soon, his shirt and collar were undone, allowing Tom access to his neck. “There. Is that better?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Much.” Tom began lavishing his neck with kisses, the same way he had with Mary earlier. He was careful not to leave any marks or bruises, well aware Molesley would see them later. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But soon it was hard to keep kissing, especially when Matthew’s breath started coming out in short, warm pants against Tom’s ear, and the tension between them began to increase. Tom moved his lips back to Matthew’s, enjoying a few more blissful moments, before taking a step back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The mere sight of Matthew did nothing to tamper his desire. His face was flushed, eyes wide, and mouth open as he continued to breathe shallowly. Tom wanted nothing more than to keep going, to see how far he could take things, but he knew they couldn’t. They were in the billiards room, for crying out loud, this isn’t how he wanted things to go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As much as I’d love to...” He trailed off, somehow unable to find his words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thankfully, Matthew knew what he meant. “You mean we should actually play some billiards, should anyone walk in?” he finished, hands working to button up his collar again. Though he was still out of breath and staring at Tom with that same intensity, he wore a proud smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom nodded in response, still overwhelmed by this man before him. Once Matthew was put together again, he walked forward and kissed Tom again, with all the love and longing he felt. It made Tom feel weak in the knees, half wishing Matthew would push <em>him</em> against the door now, if for nothing else than to keep him upright. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he pulled away all too soon, flushed and as speechless as Tom. His eyes were soft, full of so many things he couldn’t find the words to say, reflecting all of what Tom felt as well. Matthew took a step back, then another and another, and then he was reaching for a billiards cue and presenting one to Tom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom took it, only somewhat reluctant, and they stood on opposite ends of the table from one another. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So how are things at the Davis farm? I tried to ask Mary but she soon became distracted by another matter from your visit.” Matthew was evidently amused. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom couldn’t help but chuckle. Truthfully, he hadn’t noticed if Mrs. Davis had been flirting or not. How could he, when he only had eyes for Mary and Matthew? Nobody else could ever hope to capture his interest while they were in the picture. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well enough. I am worried about how they’ll manage the calves this spring, since her brother is talking about moving to London...” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. birthday traditions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Competing with Mary to find the best gift for Tom has become something of a tradition. The prize, he was willing to bet, would be different this year, but it didn’t make Matthew any less ambitious to win. Assuring Tom of his love would be gift enough. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary had become similarly ruthless. She had found a gift ages ago but hadn’t disclosed what it was to him, saying he could find out on the day of Tom’s birthday. Figuring that since they were playing dirty now, Matthew had decided to hide the chess set he had purchased on impulse one day in York; Tom had offhandedly remarked once that he had always wanted to learn how to play and Matthew hadn’t been able to resist. It was rather handsome as well and something that would allow them to spend more time with one another, even with lingering eyes on them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But if he knew Mary, he knew about all the underhanded things she would do to be declared victor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he decided to be underhanded as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He started it off with an invitation for a walk during breakfast: casual, nothing that would alert Robert’s suspicion. Tom agreed to it heartily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On their walk, Matthew suggested a detour through the dense woods. “I’m sure it would be quite pretty, what with the leaves,” he said, and Tom thankfully agreed once again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew waited until he was certain there wasn’t another soul besides the two of them before reaching for Tom’s hand. It was cool from the chill in the air but Matthew didn’t mind. Tom’s eyebrows jolted up before exchanging a smile with Matthew, squeezing his hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He waited a while longer before halting abruptly. “Is something the matter?” Tom asked. He appeared concerned. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew shook his head, releasing his hand. “Not at all.” He brought one hand up to rest on his cheek. He took a moment to simply memorize him: his blue-green eyes, widened in amazement, his fine eyelashes, the color of his mouth, the light brown hair peeking out from beneath his hat. He was so beautiful. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew moved forward, bringing their lips together. It was slow yet sensual, full of all the thoughts and feelings he had been keeping at bay since coming to that epiphany that it wasn’t mere friendship between them. Matthew poured all his longing, all his love as his hand left Tom’s cheek, sliding down his chest. The gasp that left Tom spurred him on all the more, kisses becoming more insistent as Tom’s hands grasped at his lapels and pulled him close.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the calm, tranquility of the forest, they were afforded all the time in world to simply savor one another. Eventually, though, the need for oxygen became pressing. Matthew was reluctant to part from Tom but drew back in order to catch his breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow,” was all Tom was able to manage, before chuckling slightly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew couldn’t help but feel proud. With a smile, he said, “Happy birthday.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that my gift, then?” Tom asked, beaming. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One of them,” admitted Matthew. “You’ll have the one to open up in front of the family, of course.” Still feeling the high and exhilaration from the kiss and wondering if it had been just as good for Tom, he asked, “Did you enjoy it?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom took a step towards him, a twig snapping beneath his foot. They were standing close together, Tom’s breath mingling with his own. “I loved it. Just as I love you,” answered Tom, who closed the distance between them once more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing the clock on the dusty mantelpiece. She had told Tom to meet her here at 5:30 so there would be ample time before Carson rang the gong. It was nearing 5:40 now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door opened abruptly. Mary jumped, relieved when it was only Tom. “What took you so long?” she all but demanded as she rose her feet, forgetting for a moment the point of why she had told him to come here. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I got lost. I don’t know which room you meant ,” Tom said, a bit bashfully. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She softened. She forgot that he didn’t know this how nearly half as well as she. She supposed sometimes she took growing up in this house for granted, expecting everyone to know which room she meant. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom stepped further into the room, inspecting it. “It doesn’t look like it’s been used for a while.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, it’ll get some use today.” She patted the empty space next to her on the bed. Tom sat down beside her, a plume of dust rising up beside him. Mary’s hand found his jaw and she began kissing him chastely. Tom reciprocated in kind. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary broke the kiss in order to kneel down on the floor between his parted legs. Her hands went to his knees before sliding up his thighs, then to unfasten his belt buckle. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mary,” breathed out Tom in astonishment, gaze silently questioning her, as if he couldn’t believe she was doing this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Happy birthday, darling.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So,” Mary began, sidling up beside him, “who won this year?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The three of them had been left alone in the drawing room as everyone else retired for the evening. He liked it best that way, not having to hide. Matthew was already seated beside him, much closer than if they were in company, a hand resting lazily on Tom’s knee with his arm wrapped around his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think <em>I</em> must have,” answered Tom. “Because this was the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.” Last year had been marred by loneliness, despite their best efforts, reminded by Sybil’s all too recent passing. It was hard to feel alone now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew beamed at that. “Then I think we can both count that as a victory for both of us, since that was always our intention.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Always?” Tom asked, somewhat dubiously. This game had only originated last year. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Always</em>,“ assured Matthew, kissing his cheek. “We wanted you to be happy, Tom. Even if we didn’t quite understand why it was so important to us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom felt a rush of love and gratitude towards them both. He wondered what sort of state he would be in, if not for them. He didn’t even want to picture it, knowing it wasn’t possible for him to feel as much joy as he did in in this moment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t the possessions they gave him: it was always the sentiment behind them. The chess set was a way for him and Matthew to spend more time together, even if they had an audience. The tie Mary gave him wasn’t just a scrap of fabric; it was the same thing she had given Matthew for his birthday and her way of saying they were equals in her heart. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was thinking,” Tom began, well aware that both sets of eyes were on him even as he spoke to his own lap, “that tonight you should join Mary and I.” He finally glanced up to look at Matthew. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Those gorgeous blue eyes were wide, mouth agape. “Yes. Of course I will. But only if you really want me to.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do,” Tom assured him. “I think it’s been long enough now. I want us all to be together fully.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Matthew’s face split into a wide grin. “I’d like that very much.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t take long for one of them to suggest they ought to retire for the evening. Tom couldn’t remember who brought it up. It might have been Mary, for she was always earnest, but it might have very well been himself, giddy with excitement. All he knew was that when he heard that familiar knock on his bedroom door, he was more than ready. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom opened it wide, pleased to see the two people he loved standing there. Mary and Matthew’s hands were intertwined as they stepped into his room. Before Mary had even closed or locked the door behind them, Matthew stepped forward, kissing him gently. Tom reached out, pulling Matthew close to him. Eyes closed, he let himself get lost in their kiss. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t until he felt a hand insinuating itself between his and Matthew’s bodies that he realized Mary was working on unbuttoning his shirt. He drew away from Matthew, allowing her easier access. </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mary’s fingers worked quickly, practiced in the art of undressing him. He simply stared at her, admiring the determined look on her face when Matthew dropped a kiss to her clothed shoulder, then her neck. Soon Tom was distracted by Matthew gently nipping at Mary’s neck as his hands slid from her waist to cup her breasts through her nightgown. Mary shivered once before undoing the last button, pushing the shirt off of Tom. She kissed Tom once before moving her lips to his own neck, hands working at untying the drawstring on his trousers. As she did that, one of Matthew’s hands settled on the back of Tom’s neck, bringing him forward so they could kiss a second time over Mary’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tom groaned with satisfaction against Matthew’s mouth as Mary’s hand slipped into his trousers, finding it hard to believe anything could be better than this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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